UNIT.  OF  CALIF.  LTTUtARY.  1,O*   ANGELE& 


A  PRINCE  OF  GEORGIA 
AND    OTHER    TALES 

By 

JULIAN  RALPH 

AUTHOR  OF 

"AN  ANGEL  IN  A  WEB"  "ALONE  IN  CHINA" 
"PEOPLE  WE  PASS"  ETC. 

ILLUSTRATED 


NEW    YORK    AND    LONDON 

HARPER    &    BEOTHERS    PUBLISHERS 

1899 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR. 

AN  ANGEL  IN  A  WEB.    A  Novel.    Illustrated  by 
W.  T.  SMKDI.ET.     Poet  8vo,  Cloth,  $1  50. 
The  author  .  .  .  has  woven  a  most  entertaining  meta- 
physical romance  for  the  edification  of  hia  many  readers. 

— Lutheran  Obterver,  Philadelphia. 

ALONE  IN  CHINA,  and  Other  Stories.  Illustrated 
by  C.  D.  WWJWN.  Poat  8ro,  Cloth,  $2  00. 

PEOPLE  WE  PASS.  Stories  of  Life  among  the 
Masses  of  New  York  City.  Illustrated.  Post  Svo, 
Cloth,  $1  85. 

DIXIE;  or,  Southern  Scenes  and  Sketches.  Svo, 
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sition. Illustrated.  Svo,  Cloth,  $3  00. 

OUR  GREAT  WEST.  A  Study  of  the  Present  Con- 
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ON  CANADA'S  FRONTIER.  Sketches  of  History, 
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KIW  YORK  AND  LONDON: 
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Copyright,  1899,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 

AU  riftt,  rw«W. 


TO 
THE  MEMBERS 

AND 

THE  HAPPY  VACATIONS 

or 

THE  RED  IBIS  CLUB 
THIS  BOOK 

f  0  BeDicateD 


2132266 


THE  first  two  of  the  tales  in  this  book  were  published  in 
HARPER'S  MAGAZINE.  "A  Dandy  at  his  Best "  and  "  My 
Borrowed  Torpedo-Boat"  appeared  in  HARPER'S  ROUND 
TABLE.  "  The  Sad  Fate  of  a  New  Woman  "  was  written  for 
the  Cosmopolitan  Magazine,  and  appears  in  this  collection  by 
the  kind  permission  of  the  editor,  John  Brisben  Walker,  Esq. 
The  story  called  "Mrs.  Ruppert's  Christmas"  is  a  piece  of 
reporting  done  for  the  New  York  Sun  several  years  ago  ;  out 
of  consideration  for  those  concerned,  the  surname  of  the  family 
in  this  tale  has  now  been  changed  to  one  that  is  fictitious. 

THE  AUTHOR 


CONTENTS 


PAOK 

A  PRINCE  OP  GEORGIA 1 

WHEN  THE  CLOUDS  FELL  DOWN 39 

A  DANDY  AT  His  BEST 73 

THE  SAD  FATE  OF  A  NEW  WOMAN 94 

MRS.  RUPPERT'S  CHRISTMAS 112 

MY  BORROWED  TORPEDO-BOAT 121 

BRUCE'S  MIGHTY  WEAKNESS  .    .  140 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


"THE  PRINCE  CAME  ON  DECK  AND  BOWED  TO 

HER  " Frontispiece 

A  GEORGIAN  VILLAGE  NEAR  BATOUM  ....  Facing  p.  14 
MINGRELIAN  WOMEN — "THE  PEOPLE  WE  SPRANG 

FROM  ARE  STILL  THE  MOST  BEAUTIFUL"  .  "  16 

"A  TALL,  GRAY-BEARDED  MOUNTAINEER".  .  .  "  18 
THE  TINY  SHOPS  OF  THE  PERSIAN  QUARTER, 

TIFLIS "  20 

TIFLIS— "THE  SAVAGE-RUSHING  KUR  "  ....  "  22 

A  MERCHANT  IN  THE  PERSIAN  QUARTER,  TIFLIS  "  24 

A  CAUCASIAN  ARMENIAN  IN  NATIONAL  COSTUME  "  26 

A  GEORGIAN  MOTHER "  28 

A  STATION  ON  THE  MILITARY  WAY "  32 

"OVER  THE  CAUCASUS,  AND  HOME" "  34 

"HE  RECOGNIZED  THEM  WHEN  TEN  FEET  AWAY"  "  36 

IN  THE  CURIO-DEALER'S  SHOP "  48 

IN  THE  BLACK  FOG "  64 

THE  FIRST  MAN  CARRIED  A  TORCH "  86 

"'I  AM  DENISOV,  OF  THE  POLICE'" "  126 


Y 


A  PRINCE  OF  GEORGIA 

OU  are  going  to  have  the  great  sensation 
of  your  life,"  said  a  young  naval  lieuten- 
ant who  had  made  the  trip  upon  which 
Ethel  Barrowe  was  starting,  and  she  remembered 
the  prophecy  day  after  day  as  the  "great  sensa- 
tion" spun  itself  out.  It  was  a  sight-seeing  sensa- 
tion that  he  meant  to  predict,  for  Miss  Barrowe 
was  going  through  southern  Russia  as  far  as  Ba- 
toum,  and  then  across  the  Caucasus,  and  so  back 
again.  Eccentric  old  Mrs.  Barrowe,  her  rich  aunt, 
had  invited  her  to  leave  home  in  Cincinnati  and 
visit  her  in  Athens,  where  the  old  lady  employed 
her  wealth  and  leisure  in  the  pursuit  of  such  pious 
and  humane  projects  as  the  succor  of  the  Cretans 
and  the  relief  of  the  Armenians — projects  which 
the  scoffers  among  her  friends  characterized  as 
"  dreams,"  and  other  persons,  of  less  importance 
to  her  —  the  leading  statesmen  of  continental 
Europe  —  regarded  as  mischievous  nightmares. 
Now  that  she  had  her  pretty  niece  to  entertain, 
A  1 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

she  was  starting  upon  a  journey  she  never  would 
have  made  alone,  to  show  the  young  woman  what 
the  Russians  call  their  Riviera  and  their  Switzer- 
land, and  to  meet  those  Armenians  through  whom 
she  had  been  generously  contributing  for  the  cause 
of  their  oppressed  brethren  in  Turkey. 

"  Dreams,"  did  I  call  her  amusements  ?  Then 
both  women  were  dreamers,  because  Miss  Ethel 
was  a  poor  girl  floated  above  the  trials  of  her  posi- 
tion by  her  fond  hopes,  for  she  knew  that  her  aunt 
liked  her  better  than  any  relative  she  had,  and  she 
aspired  to  become  her  heir.  And  now  she  was 
about  to  cross  Europe  and  penetrate  Asia  —  she 
who  until  a  mouth  before  had  never  been  twenty 
miles  from  Cincinnati,  and  in  that  city  learned  no 
more  of  the  world  than  one  gets  from  membership 
of  a  Baptist  sewing  circle,  a  progressive  euchre 
club,  and  a  course  of  the  talk-about  novels  of  each 
year. 

On  the  way  to  Moscow  and  southward  to  the 
Black  Sea  the  lieutenant's  prediction  lost  weight. 
The  Czars  wheat  and  cabbage  farm,  called  Russia, 
is  mainly  a  great  flat  dish  of  earth,  with  a  dull 
sky  bent  down  all  around  to  meet  the  rim — a  tire- 
some monotone  of  grass  and  grain,  flecked  with 
villages  of  wretched  cabins  with  thatched  roofs, 
brown  as  so  many  rats  in  a  granary.  If  there  is 

2 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

variety,  its  effect  on  the  mind  more  than  offsets 
the  little  pleasure  it  brings  to  the  eyes,  for  it  must 
consist  of  an  over-costly  church  and  of  the  squalid 
people  who  have  built  it.  But  by  nine  o'clock  on 
the  third  day  from  Moscow  the  earth  began  to 
rumple  into  broken  limestone  hills,  guttered  with 
canyons  and  crevices.  Orchards  appeared,  and  the 
shade  trees  became  willows  and  locusts,  instead  of 
the  incessant  pines  and  birches  of  older  Eussia. 
The  houses  changed  into  the  modern  Greek  type 
— one-storied  stucco  or  stone,  painted  white  or  yel- 
low, roofed  with  heavy  red  tiles,  always  walled 
around,  and  usually  showing  the  soft  round  tops 
of  small  trees  staring  over  the  walls. 

Suddenly  the  train  crawled  out  of  a  tunnel  to 
the  edge  of  a  cliff  overlooking  the  blue,  yellow, 
and  white  port  of  Sebastopol.  Beyond  the  blue 
of  the  harbor,  dotted  with  stately  men-of-war,  lay 
a  bigger  reach  of  liquid  indigo  —  the  Black  Sea. 
It  was  October,  and  only  the  day  before  all  Rus- 
sia, apparently,  had  been  whitened  by  hoar-frost. 
But  now  the  car  windows,  all  opened,  let  in  air  as 
warm  as  the  breathings  of  cattle.  Arrived  at  the 
station,  the  travellers  found  themselves  in  a  Le- 
vantine city,  with  the  usual  white  houses,  gray 
streets,  and  limp  and  dusty  trees.  The  cabs,  like 

3 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

so  many  miller -moths  settled  near  a  lamp,  were 
wicker-bodied  victorias  under  white  cloth  canopies, 
and  the  drivers  wore  white  bell -crowned  hats. 
The  drive  to  the  hotel  showed  that  Sebastopol  was 
beautiful,  but  to  our  ladies  it  was  like  getting  back 
to  Greece,  and  they  determined  to  press  onward. 
They  found  that  the  Grand-Duchess  Olga  was  to 
sail  next  day  for  Yalta  and  Batoum,  and  they  at 
once  engaged  passage.  On  her  deck  the  task  of 
watching  to  see  their  baggage  put  aboard  was 
given  to  Miss  Ethel,  who  was  presently  interested 
in  the  foreign  travellers,  their  leave-takings,  in 
which  the  men  kissed  each  other  on  both  cheeks, 
and  the  bustle  at  the  gang-plank.  Suddenly  a 
fragment  of  conversation  interested  her. 

"  He's  a  prince,"  she  heard  a  man  say  in  English 
— and  she  forgot  the  foreign  scenes,  and  even  her 
anxiety  about  the  baggage. 

Two  Englishmen  had  been  bidding  good-bye  to 
two  Eussian-looking  men,  who  now  came  up  the 
plank  to  the  deck,  leaving  the  Englishmen  on  the 
wharf.  Miss  Ethel  saw  that  the  voyagers  were  an 
elderly,  smooth -shaven,  black -haired  man,  who 
walked  slowly  and  weakly,  like  an  invalid,  and  a 
tall,  sandy -bearded  man  of  thirty  who  followed, 
carrying  a  sword,  an  umbrella,  and  some  walking- 
sticks  tied  together. 

4 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEOKGiA 

"  Bon  voyage,"  called  out  one  of  the  English- 
men, adding,  in  a  lower  tone  :  "  Queer,  isn't  it  ? 
One  would  naturally  say,  'He's  going  with  a 
prince,'  but,  on  the  contrary,  a  prince  is  going 
with  him." 

"  Prince,  eh  ?"  the  other  repeated,  questioningly. 

"  Yes  ;  a  Georgian  prince  ;  with  a  family  older 
than  any  in  Europe,  of  course.  All  those  Georgian 
families  date  back  to  King  David,  or  to  some 
Chinese  emperor  of  centuries  before  Christ.  He's 
a  genuine  prince,  though,  whatever  doubt  there 
may  be  about  a  few  of  the  early  centuries  in  his 
family  history.  Can't  help  feeling  sorry  that — " 
and  here  the  men  turned,  and  she  heard  no  more. 
She  glanced  at  the  deck  to  see  the  noble,  but  he — 
she  was  sure  it  was  the  younger  one — had  gone 
below.  Presently  the  baggage  came,  and  in  a  very 
few  minutes  the  Grand  -  Duchess  Olga  was  trem- 
bling with  the  power  she  exerted  in  throwing  out 
a  lacelike  train  of  white  bubbles  far  behind  her. 

Miss  Ethel  annoyed  her  aunt  by  opening  the 
bags  and  trunks  to  find  her  bright  red  Russian 
blouse — the  newest,  most  fetching  thing  she  owned 
— and  her  bonnet  with  the  red  wings,  and  her  gray 
skirt  with  the  fine  stripes.  And  she  spent  more 
than  half  an  hour  over  her  hair  and  her  hands. 

"We  agreed  to  wear  only  our  knock -about 
5 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

things  on  shipboard,  Ethel,"  her  aunt  said,  "  and 
now  you're  dressing  as  if  for  an  evening  party." 

"  Oh  no,  aunty ;  but  it's  so  warm  and  summer- 
like,  and  the  people  who  are  going  to  Yalta  are  all 
so  fashionably  dressed,  I  thought  I'd  put  on  some- 
thing cool,  and  show  these  Russians  that  we  have 
nice  things  as  well  as  they." 

"  Oh,  well,  if  it's  a  patriotic  matter — "  said  the 
elder  lady,  and  there  abandoned  the  sentence.  Far 
from  being  humbugged,  she  determined  to  discover 
the  reason  for  the  sudden  fine  apparelling  of  her 
niece. 

Miss  Ethel  was  radiant  when  she  went  to  the 
saloon  for  luncheon.  She  knew  she  looked  her 
best,  and  when  even  a  plain  girl  has  that  conscious- 
ness, it  sets  off  her  good  points  to  advantage.  But 
she  was  far  from  plain.  She  was  tall  and  well 
rounded,  with  a  high  brow  crowning  an  oval  face, 
with  sensitive  brown  eyes,  and  fine  soft  brown 
hair,  an  arched  nose,  and  lips  so  full  as  to  betoken 
an  ardent  nature,  and  yet  firm  enough  to  show 
thorough  self-control.  Two  things  about  her  were 
eloquent  of  her  right  to  belong  to  the  country  that 
most  prizes  good  women,  and  has  given  every  one 
of  them  a  throne.  These  were  her  confident  car- 
riage, independent  without  suggesting  impudence, 
and  her  eyes  that  flashed  every  emotion  quicker 

6 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

than  telegraphy,  because  there  was  no  waiting  to 
spell  out  long  words  like  amusement,  or  sympathy, 
or  intelligence ;  they  were  flashed  on  her  quick 
orbs  like  magic.  Thus  her  smallest  features  vital- 
ized and  characterized  her  entire  personality. 

But  even  her  intelligence  did  not  forearm  her 
for  the  discovery  that  all  the  seats  in  the  dining- 
saloon  were  taken.  She  mentioned  this  to  a  wait- 
er— and  he  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?"  she  asked  her  aunt. 

"  If  madame  weel  assept  my  place,"  said  a  gen- 
tleman, rising  to  put  a  hand  to  his  breast  and  make 
a  low  courtesy.  It  was  the  prince.  Miss  Ethel 
gasped  for  some  polite  phrase  that  was  called  too 
suddenly  to  come. 

"  Thank  you,  but  one  place  will  scarcely  do  for 
two,"  said  the  old  lady. 

"  I  weel  do  ze  sing,"  said  the  prince,  and  went 
and  got  a  camp-stool,  and  bade  those  who  were  on 
either  side  of  him  move  closer  while  he  squeezed 
in  the  extra  seat.  Then  he  bowed  again  and 
stepped  back,  and  moved  the  chair  and  stool, 
while  the  ladies  took  their  places  at  the  table. 
And  he  pushed  the  chairs  under  them  when  they 
were  sitting  down ;  not  only  that,  but  he  got  an 
extra  napkin  and  opened  it,  and  laid  it  across  Miss 
Ethel's  lap,  which  was  a  very  peculiar  thing,  she 

7 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

thought,  except  that,  perhaps,  princes  were  not  to 
be  judged  by  the  usages  of  ordinary  folk. 

"  Thank  you  so  much,"  said  Miss  Ethel ;  "  but 
what  will  you  do  ?" 

"Please,  I  s'all  wait,  leetle,"  said  the  prince, 
bowing  again,  so  that  his  light  reddish  beard  al- 
most touched  her  back  hair. 

"  How  polite  he  is !"  said  she,  when  he  had  taken 
himself  off. 

"  Humph  !"  said  her  aunt,  and  fell  to  eating  her 
soup.  "  I  think  I  would  almost  sooner  have  wait- 
ed myself,"  she  added. 

"  It  is  too  bad/'  her  niece  replied. 

"  I  mean  that  I  would  rather  have  waited  than 
have  had  such  a  fuss— and  with  such  a  man." 

"  Such  a —    Why,  aunt,  he's  a  prince  ?" 

"  Indeed !    He  made  me  creep." 

"  No ;  but  really,  aunty,  he  is  a  prince,  and  of 
one  of  the  most  ancient  noble  families.  I  over- 
heard two  gentlemen,  who  were  bidding  him  good- 
bye, talking — I'm  sure  he  was  the  one  they  meant 
— and  the  one  who  knew  all  about  him  said  there 
was  no  doubt  about  his — his  royalty,  don't  you 
call  it  2" 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Barrowe,  "  princes  are  at  a 
great  discount  in  Greece  since  the  war,  and  I 
never  was  able  to  see  the  use  of  them  before  that. 

8 


,    A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

He  may  be  a  prince,  but  I  did  not  think  him  much 
of  a  man.  Bless  me !  how  he  must  have  upset 
me !  I  know  nothing  whatever  of  the  creature — 
and  only  hear  how  I'm  going  on  !" 

"  I  should  say  so,  dear  aunt !"  Miss  Ethel  said. 
"  As  for  me,  he's  the  only  prince  I  ever  saw,  and  I 
thought  him  most  polite  and  amiable.  He  is  cer- 
tainly more  unselfish  than  any  other  man  in  all 
this  crowd." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Mrs.  Barrowe.  "  I'll  grant 
that  by  way  of  apology.  So  let's  drop  the 
matter." 

They  ate  in  silence,  for  both  found  their 
thoughts  engrossing.  Miss  Ethel  was  staggered 
by  the  good  and  bad  fortune  that  fell,  with  two 
quick  strokes,  upon  her — the  good  being  the  meet- 
ing with  a  prince,  and  the  other  her  aunt's  unac- 
countable, uncharacteristic  repugnance  to  him  at 
first  sight.  As  for  the  elder  lady,  she  was  well 
pleased  with  herself  for  having  so  quickly  discov- 
ered why  her  niece  had  put  on  her  finery. 

The  passengers  crowded  the  deck  in  the  after- 
noon, and  the  Americans  saw  many  Russian  fash- 
ionables at  their  ease.  Several  young  dignitaries 
lounged  about  in  gold  -  trimmed  suits  of  pongee 
silk  that  needed  washing.  Many  elegantly  dressed 
young  ladies,  very  vain,  and  swaying  between  fits 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

of  giggling  and  of  petulance,  promenaded  with 
their  parents,  while  several  of  the  matrons  walked 
about  smoking  cigarettes.  The  men  smoked  in- 
cessantly, and  drank  almost  as  constantly.  The 
deck-house  was  always  full  of  them,  behind  their 
glasses  of  vodka  or  bottles  of  wine  or  beer,  each 
man  drinking,  unsociably,  by  himself.  When  Miss 
Ethel  was  about  to  turn  her  attention  to  the  cliffs, 
close  to  which  the  ship  laid  her  course,  the  prince 
came  on  deck  and  bowed  to  her,  and  no  scenery 
short  of  a  volcanic  eruption  could  have  enlisted 
her  attention. 

My  description  and  hers  of  this  nobleman  would 
not  seem  to  be  of  the  same  person.  She  found 
him  about  thirty,  tall,  stately,  with  a  very  distin- 
guished carriage,  intelligent  blue  eyes,  lovely 
flaxen  hair,  a  noble  head,  an  aristocratic  face,  and 
a  silky,  ruddy  beard.  To  me  he  appeared  loosely 
built  and  awkward,  his  eyes  colorless  and  too 
shifting,  the  back  of  his  head  as  flat  as  a  drum, 
and  for  his  beard,  hair,  and  complexion,  all  three 
were  sandy.  But  for  his  title,  I  should  never  have 
noticed  him. 

He  slowly  led  the  way  to  a  seat  by  the  ship's 
rail  for  an  elderly  man,  who  was  evidently  an  in- 
valid and  of  an  irritable  nature,  as  his  face  and 
the  snarl  in  his  voice  told  all  who  came  near. 

10 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

"  Shall  I  find  you  a  book,  colonel  ?"  the  prince 
inquired. 

"  Go  to  the  devil !"  snarled  the  sick  man.  "  You 
are  a  nuisance." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  the  prince,  submissively. 

"  Well,  go  away,  go  away !"  growled  the  in- 
valid, whereupon  the  prince  went  and  sat  in  the 
deck  -  house  behind  a  bottle  of  beer,  where  Miss 
Ethel  saw  him  as  she  walked  to  and  fro.  She  did 
not  hear  the  conversation  between  the  two  men, 
and  if  she  had,  she  would  not  have  understood  a 
word. 

It  was  almost  dark  when  the  ship  reached  the 
beautiful  horseshoe  -  shaped  scallop  in  the  hills 
which  is  famous  as  the  harbor  of  Yalta.  The 
hills,  always  beside  the  sea,  sent  their  towering 
sides  sheer  down  to  its  edge,  and  were  jewelled 
with  a  grand  monastery  here,  noble  mansions 
there,  and,  nearer  Yalta,  an  imperial  palace  em- 
bowered in  park  foliage.  Eegretfully  the  Ameri- 
cans found  they  were  only  to  make  a  short  night- 
time stop  at  this  place,  to  which  the  noble  and 
rich  repair  in  autumn  to  eat  grapes  medicinally,  to 
entertain  in  chateaux,  and  to  crowd  in  fashionable 
hotels.  The  ladies  went  ashore  and  drove  beside 
the  curving  beach.  They  mingled  with  the  gay 
crowd  in  the  largest  hotel,  heard  the  band  in  its 

11 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

garden,  and,  in  a  little  kiosk  over  the  water's  edge, 
took  tea  in  Russian  fashion,  in  a  thin  glass  on  a 
saucer,  with  two  cubes  of  sugar,  a  slice  of  lemon, 
and  a  spoon  beside  the  glass.  Perhaps  it  was  the 
tea  that  caused  the  younger  lady  to  lie  awake  un- 
til late  in  the  night  trying  to  picture  the  prince 
mingling  with  the  lively,  laughing  crowds  at  the 
main  hotel  in  Yalta,  smiled  on  by  haughty  women, 
and  deferred  to  by  eminent  and  masterful  men  of 
commoner  clay.  She  wished  every  one  had  not 
left  the  ship  at  Yalta,  or  else  that  she  had  left 
it  also. 

On  the  next  day,  when  the  ship  dropped  anchor 
far  beyond  a  large  sprawling  yellow  town  called 
Kertch,  and  while  Miss  Ethel  was  in  a  torment 
lest  her  aunt  should  not  come  on  deck  in  time  to 
catch  the  tender  that  was  to  take  them  ashore 
while  the  ship  spent  some  hours  in  coaling,  who 
should  appear  but  the  prince  ? 

"Please,"  he  said,  "can  I  take  something  to 
you  ?  You  are  look  for  somesing — no  2" 

"  Oh,  you  are  so  kind  !"  said  she.  "  I  am  wait- 
ing for  my  aunt.  I  thought  you  had  left  the 
steamer  at  Yalta." 

"  And  you,  too,  I  thought,"  said  he.  "  I  see  you 
not  somewhere  ever  since.  But,  no,  it  is  that  we 
are  both  here  again — what?" 

12 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

"  The  sick  gentleman  who  was  with  you,"  she 
continued,  "  he  is  still  on  the  ship  ?  Yes  ?  I 
heard  it  said  that  he  was  a  prince." 

"  Please,"  said  he,  apologetically,  "  you  have 
heard  what  is  not.  He  is  a  pig,  please,  or  somesing 
wheech  is  put  to  wipe  off  your  feet  at  ze  door,  but 
he  is  a  prince  not.  He  is  called  Colonel  Miiller." 

"  A  German  name,"  Miss  Ethel  remarked. 

"  But,  please,  Kussia  is  crowded,  much,  wiz  zose 
German,  also  zose  French  names,  though  not  all 
belong  to  pigs." 

"  You,  also,  have  a  German  name  ?" 

"  Please,  I  have  a  German  name  not.  My  name 
has  much  ugliness  in  English.  You  will  hear  it — 
what  ?  It  is  Gola — George  Theodorus  Gola." 

She  admired  his  modesty,  and  still  she  wanted 
to  hear  from  his  own  lips  the  delicious  fact  that 
she  was  hobnobbing  with  a  prince. 

"And  I  may  tell  your  name — no ?" 

She  told  him  hers,  and  added :  "  Yours  is  a 
Georgian  name,  isn't  it  ?" 

"Ah,  you  know  it?"  he  said.  "It  was  much 
great,  once,  for  hundreds  years — what  ?  But  ze 
Kussians  swallowed  all  up  the  power,  and  zose 
wolfs  and  foxes — zose  Armenian — zey  swallow  all 
up  ze  money.  So  now  ze  name  only  is  remain- 


ing." 


13 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

There  is  no  need  to  inflict  his  broken  speech 
upon  the  reader  any  longer.  It  is  easier  to  im- 
agine it.  They  talked  for  several  minutes  before 
Mrs.  Barrowe  came  on  deck  dressed  to  go  ashore. 
Miss  Ethel  sought  to  interest  the  prince  in  what 
she  knew  of  the  hot,  yellow  city  that  fringed  the 
distant  shore  and  rose  to  a  point  on  the  side  of  a 
hill  where  a  beautiful  Greek  temple — quite  modern 
— formed  the  point  of  the  pyramid.  She  told  him 
that  two  thousand  years  ago  it  used  to  be  Panti- 
capaeum,  the  capital  of  Bosporia,  and  that  it  after- 
wards became  Genoese,  and  then  Turkish  ;  but  she 
saw  that  he  did  not  care.  She  found  it  equally 
idle  to  describe  to  him  the  temples  the  Greeks 
built  on  Mithridates's  hill,  or  the  tombs  of  their 
kings,  or  the  quantities  of  relics  dug  up  there — the 
best  of  which  are  in  the  Hermitage  in  St.  Peters- 
burg. The  prince  seemed  to  know  only  the  mod- 
ern Greeks,  and  they,  he  said,  were  pigs. 

The  prince  condescended  to  accompany  the 
ladies  ashore,  and  all  three  drove  over  the  semi- 
Oriental  town,  finding  the  hill-top  view,  the  open- 
air  market,  where  the  goods  are  littered  all  over  a 
cobbled  plaza,  the  museum  of  Greek  relics,  and 
the  thirteen- hundred -and  -twenty-  two-year-old 
church  well  worth  the  journey. 

It  was  twenty-four  hours  later  that  the  Geor- 

14 


"f^   '::  IPS 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

gian  noble  and  Miss  Ethel  met  for  long  enough 
to  enjoy  a  tete-a-tete.  Then  he  found  her  alone 
on  the  deck  late  in  the  evening.  It  may  as  well 
be  confessed  that  the  young  lady  had  waited  all 
day  for  the  meeting,  and  being  disappointed,  had 
drawn  upon  a  new  instalment  of  patience  and 
waited  far  into  the  night.  It  would  not  be  po- 
lite to  estimate  how  often  she  murmured  to  her- 
self the  words  "  Prince  Gola,"  finding  them  melo- 
dious, and  liking  to  make  them  familiar.  "When 
he  came  it  was  evident  that  he  did  not  seek  her ; 
in  fact,  he  seemed  bent  on  retreating  after  wish- 
ing her  "  good-evening "  ;  but  she  talked  on  and 
on,  and  at  last  interested  him.  Therefore,  he  sat 
down  and  spent  an  hour  with  her.  It  was  a  veiled 
reference  to  her  aunt's  wealth  which  proved  him 
a  far  more  sympathetic  companion  than  he  had 
seemed  when  she  baited  her  hook  with  classical 
lore,  largely  from  Murray's  Guide  to  Eussia.  She 
had  not  intended  to  speak  of  her  aunt's  means, 
and  perhaps  does  not  know  to  this  day  how  much 
upon  that  subject  the  prince  managed  deftly  to 
draw  from  her.  Nevertheless,  by  a  question  now  , 
and  then,  veiled  by  an  air  of  merely  formal  polite- 
ness, he  got  at  the  fact  that  the  old  lady  was  very 
rich,  and  that  his  companion  was  the  only  person 
the  rich  old  widow  cared  for  in  the  world.  With 

15 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

this  knowledge  gained,  the  prince  went  to  bed 
heavy  of  heart,  as  one  who  has  scarcely  a  penny 
might  read  of  mountains  of  gold  in  the  moon.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  young  lady  went  to  her  state- 
room humming  a  tune  so  thoughtlessly  loud  that 
Mrs.  Barrowe  was  awakened,  and  gently  chid  her. 
The  next  sight  of  Prince  Gola  that  the  American 
ladies  had  was  only  a  glimpse  of  him  as  he  board- 
ed the  train  at  Batoum,  at  the  other  end  from  that 
at  which  the  ladies  found  that  their  own  wraps 
and  rugs  and  bags  had  been  put  by  their  porters. 
The  guide-books  assert  that  Batoum  prides  itself 
on  possessing  an  avenue  of  palms  that  is  quite 
unique,  but  as  the  swamp-encircled  place  is  given 
over  to  dreadful  fevers,  the  ladies  hurried  through 
it,  seeing  nothing  in  its  whole  length  except  broad 
streets,  made  to  look  desolate  by  the  low  and 
shabby  houses  at  the  sides.  They  breakfasted  at 
the  station,  where  a  young  woman  smoked  ciga- 
rettes while  she  sold  the  railway  tickets  and  made 
change ;  and  then  they  took  seats  in  a  car  that 
smelled  of  kerosene,  not  knowing  that  nearly  every- 
thing on  the  long  route  across  the  Caucasian  isthmus 
likewise  smells  of  kerosene,  the  railway  being  the 
medium  for  carrying  the  oil  from  the  wells  at  Baku 
to  the  ships  at  Batoum.  Everywhere  they  saw  oil- 
trains  and  oil-cars,  always  distinguished  by  the 

16 


MINGKELIAN    WOMEN  —  "THE    PEOPLE    WE    SPRANG     FKOM    AHE 
STILL   THE   MOST   BEAUTIFUL" 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

great  boiler-like  cylinders  which  are  so  familiar  in 
our  country.  At  every  station  the  air  was  heavy  and 
strong  with  the  aroma  of  the  petroleum  that  sat- 
urated the  cars  and  dripped  along  the  roadway, 
but  by-and-by  the  smell  ceased  to  be  unbearable, 
though  it  never  quite  got  to  be  pleasant.  From 
the  car  windows,  while  skirting  the  sea  for  thirty 
miles,  they  saw  its  blue  expanse  on  one  side  and 
the  Caucasus  Mountains  towering  faintly  blue  on 
the  other.  They  saw  the  beginning  of  Russia's 
experiment  in  tea-growing,  and  noted  the  houses 
of  the  inhabitants  of  the  marshes,  that  rose  like 
the  lake  dwellings  of  old  upon  four  stilts  at  the 
corners.  They  passed  mile  after  mile  of  planta- 
tions of  American  corn,  and  marvelled  that  they 
had  never  known,  when  too  used  to  it  at  home, 
that  it  is  the  most  picturesque,  graceful,  and  beau- 
tiful vegetable  anywhere  cultivated  by  man.  They 
saw  fine  galleried  houses  in  ample  parks,  and  some- 
times noticed  near  a  village  a  rude  tower  or  for- 
tress of  stone,  or  else  the  ruins  of  one,  that  had 
apparently  been  the  citadel  and  refuge  of  the  vil- 
lagers. But  though  their  usefulness  has  gone 
with  the  petty  wars  of  barbaric  kingdoms  and 
petty  princes,  the  warlike  spirit  is  still  quick,  as 
the  travellers  saw  in  the  rude  faces  of  the  men 
with  their  sharp  noses  and  flashing  eyes,  and  in 

B  17 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

the  fact  that  every  man  was  armed  always  with  a 
very  long  broad  dagger,  carried  in  front  of  the 
narrow  shapely  waist  of  his  long  Circassian  coat. 
Their  caps  of  fur,  a  modification  of  the  fez,  and 
their  pointed  shoes  or  boots,  quite  as  surely  linked 
them  with  the  rest  of  Asia's  swarms. 

Miss  Ethel  had  read  (and  Prince  Gola  had  told 
her  the  same  thing)  that  the  Mingrelians  include 
the  handsomest  men  and  most  beautiful  women  it 
is  possible  to  imagine,  and  early  in  the  journey 
she  startled  her  aunt  out  of  a  precious  day-dream 
by  exclaiming :  "  Look  there  !  oh,  do  look  at  that 
woman  !  Look  what  a  number  of  handsome  peo- 
ple are  on  that  platform  !  They  are  Mingrelians, 
I  am  sure.  Do  look  at  that  woman !" 

"  That  peasant  in  the  cotton  !  Oh,  but  she  is 
more  than  beautiful !"  said  Mrs.  Barrowe. 

In  truth  she  was  more  than  beautiful,  for  her 
carriage  was  that  of  a  queen.  Olive -skinned, 
soft -eyed,  with  brown  orbs,  and  long  black 
lashes,  with  heavy,  beautifully  curved  black  eye- 
brows, and  a  mass  of  glossy  hair  of  the  same 
deep  tone,  with  full  red  lips  beautifully  bowed, 
and  with  a  nose  curved  like  an  eagle's  beak  and 
flared  like  a  lily's  mouth  at  the  end,  this  poor 
peasant,  in  a  cotton  gown  and  heavy  boots,  walked 
up  and  down  the  platform  with  all  of  what  we  are 

18 


A  TALL,  GRAY-BEAKDED   MOUNTAINEER' 


A    PKINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

too  apt  to  call  the  grace  and  dignity  of  a  queen. 
"  Of  a  Sioux  chief,"  would  be  more  apt,  for  not  all 
queens  possess  the  charm  of  movement  that  comes 
with  splendid  health,  or  the  haughty  upholding  of 
the  head  that  is  a  sign  of  fearless  pride  as  well  as 
power.  As  the  travellers  looked  beyond  her,  the 
whole  crowd  on  the  platform  interested  them ; 
particularly  a  tall,  gray-bearded  mountaineer,  as 
slender  and  supple  as  a  deer,  whose  features  were 
artistically  perfect,  who  yet  had  the  eagle  face 
of  the  first  of  the  Caesars — the  intense  small  eyes, 
the  hawk  nose,  the  thin  firm  lips;  and  again, 
in  a  youth  in  a  dirty  sheepskin  coat  and  legs  bun- 
dled in  flannel,  whose  noble  head  was  clothed 
with  a  superb  shock  of  curling  nut-brown  hair, 
whose  blue  eyes  were  as  soft  as  a  maiden's,  and 
whose  entire  face  was  classic,  like  a  marble  god's. 
The  long  daggers  the  men  carried  were  in  ornate 
sheaths  of  silver  arabesqued  with  enamel,  and 
with  handles  of  the  same  fashion.  They  were 
very  picturesque  at  a  railway  station  in  broad  day- 
light, but,  Miss  Ethel  thought,  meeting  them  at 
night  must  be  a  thing  dreadful  beyond  words. 

"  We  should  be  proud  to  know  that  in  the  birth- 
place of  our  race  the  people  we  sprang  from  are 
still  the  most  beautiful,"  she  said. 

"  What  is  all  this?"  the  elder  lady  asked,  quick- 

19 


A    PEINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

ly  but  good-humoredly.  "  I  never  heard  a  sound 
of  Mingrelia  before.  Where  and  why  have  you 
picked  it  all  up  ?  Is  HE  Mingrelian  ?" 

"  Yes,  dear  aunt,"  in  a  purr,  like  a  kitten. 

"  Humph  !"  her  aunt  exclaimed.  "  He  escaped 
the  contagion  of  beauty,  didn't  he  ?" 

Baku  is  the  source  of  the  gigantic  smell  of  kero- 
sene that  floats  across  the  isthmus  as  if  the  pur- 
pose of  the  railway  was  to  distribute  it  along  with 
the  oil.  Here  the  old  lady  met  those  Armenian 
philanthropists  who  so  heroically  received  all  the 
money  they  could  get  from  her.  It  was  a  stupid 
place  to  Miss  Ethel.  If  she  had  ever  seen  the 
Pennsylvania  oil  district,  she  would  have  liked  a 
day  here  just  to  note  how  American  methods  have 
been  copied  to  make  one  region  almost  like  the 
other ;  but  she  had  not,  and  time  hung  as  heavy 
as  the  oil-drenched  air  around  her.  At  last  Mrs. 
Barrowe  had  seen  all  her  correspondents,  and  was 
beginning  the  purely  pleasure  part  of  her  trip  at 
Tiflis. 

It  is  the  most  Asiatic  town  on  Europe's  borders, 
one  of  the  quaintest,  gaudiest,  most  splendidly 
situated  of  all  cities,  the  lodge  at  the  gate  of  the 
Caucasus,  the  capital  of  Russian  power  in  the 
Near  East.  Its  nineteenth  -  century  museum  and 
its  crumbling  old  citadel  contrast  no  more  strongly 

20 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

than  its  dandies  and  its  barbaric  chiefs,  its  Pa- 
risian and  its  Persian  shops,  its  diligences  and 
sleeping-cars,  its  opera  troupe  and  the  dagger- 
carrying  minstrels  who  sing  in  its  streets.  "What 
a  dreamy,  unreal  congerie  of  alleys,  and  swarm  of 
quaint  costumes,  and  kaleidoscope  of  Asiatic  life, 
is  the  Persian  quarter !  The  tiny  shops  all  seem- 
ed to  be  disgorging  their  wares  on  the  crooked, 
cobbled  streets.  Each  was  a  cave  in  which  our 
ladies  sa\v  workmen  making  the  very  articles  they 
bought  —  the  enamelled  daggers,  bracelets,  pins, 
and  boxes,  the  inlaid  fiddles  and  mandolins,  and 
a  wide  range  of  things  of  iron  and  steel  and  sil- 
ver and  copper.  They  were  jostled  by  poor  men 
shouldering  their  dead  in  coffins ;  they  saw  bakers 
hooking  fresh  -  baked  loaves  out  of  sunken  ovens, 
and  hanging  their  sheets  of  bread  on  strings  in 
the  doorways ;  merchants  sucked  hubble  -  bubbles 
in  the  street ;  and  Persian  chiefs  and  Greek  ped- 
dlers sat  cross-legged  together  in  the  tea-shops. 
Fancy  two  American  ladies  with  time  and  money, 
with  a  whole  street  of  silversmiths  before  them, 
or  exploring  carpet -shops  hung  with  rugs  as  gor- 
geous as  the  banners  in  a  Lord  Mayor's  show ! 
At  times  they  came  to  a  bridge  over  the  savage- 
rushing  Kur,  and  saw  how  it  had  cut  its  course 
deep  down  through  solid  rock,  making  steep  pali- 

21 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

sades  for  shores,  on  top  of  which  were  dizzily 
perched  temples,  shops,  gardens,  and  hive -like 
houses,  whose  galleries  hung  over  the  turbulent 
river — a  crack  in  the  bottom  of  the  bowl  around 
all  sides  of  which  Tiflis  is  built,  and  on  one  side 
of  which,  like  a  handle  on  the  rim,  is  the  ancient 
citadel. 

They  knew  the  prince  was  in  Tiflis,  but  they 
were  there  several  days  before  they  met  him.  One 
evening,  when  they  had  gone  to  the  splendid  ultra- 
modern opera-house,  with  its  soft  colors  touched 
with  gold,  its  four  rectangular  galleries,  and  its 
seats  arranged,  below  the  boxes,  to  make  a  floral 
bank  of  the  beauties  of  Europe  and  Asia,  Miss 
Ethel  and  her  aunt  were  in  the  gaudy  foyer  when 
the  square,  ruddy  head  of  the  prince  appeared  in 
the  doorway  of  the  smoking  and  bar  room  at  the 
foyer's  farther  side.  He  saw  them  at  the  same 
instant.  He  had  a  napkin  in  his  hand,  and  this  he 
instantly  dropped  as  he  made  his  way  through  the 
crowd  to  the  ladies.  He  showed  an  interest  in 
them  at  last. 

"  Why !"  exclaimed  the  younger  lady,  "  you  are 
the  only  gentleman  in  evening  dress  in  the  whole 
opera-house.  I  like  it.  I  have  not  felt  as  if  I 
was  at  the  opera,  because  only  the  ladies  are  prop- 
erly dressed." 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

"Please,"  said  the  prince,  "most  of  the  men 
are  in  uniforms  which  they  must  wear,  and  which 
are  therefore  as  proper  as  a  dress-coat  and  waist- 
coat." 

"  How  many  soldiers  there  are  all  over  Russia !" 
said  she. 

"  Please,  few  here  are  soldiers,"  said  the  prince, 
surveying  the  swarm  of  men  in  blue  and  gold. 
"  Those  two  are  civil  engineers  :  see  the  hammers 
crossed  on  their  shoulders.  Those  three,  and  all 
the  others  in  that  simple,  severe  dress  of  blue  with 
silver  buttons,  are  students.  There  is  a  professor, 
and  there  a  doctor,  and  that  man  in  white  silk 
with  gold  ornaments  talking  to  the  man  in  blue  is 
what  you  call  a  sheriff.  The  other  is  an  architect. 
So,  instead  of  soldiers,  here  are  judges,  teachers, 
lawyers,  railway  men — for  all  professional  people, 
all  officials,  and  all  government  employes  must 
wear  their  especial  uniforms." 

Two  young  army  officers  strode  by,  both  swarthy 
and  raven -haired,  and  as  handsome  as  if  Adonis 
had  a  twin  brother  and  both  had  come  to  earth  to 
serve  the  Czar.  One  was  all  in  white,  with  a  row 
of  ornately  carved  silver  powder-cylinders  looped 
across  his  broad  breast  and  with  a  silver  dagger 
and  sword.  The  other  wore  rich  brown  and 
powder -tubes  and  arms  of  graven  gold.  Their 

OQ 

0O 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

hats  were  tall  caps  of  baby  lamb-skin,  matching 
their  costumes ;  their  coats  were  moulded  at  the 
waists  almost  like  those  of  French  exquisites; 
their  boots  were  of  Russian  leather.  They  were 
the  most  superb  masculine  figures  Miss  Ethel  had 
ever  seen — two  young  nobles,  officers  of  Circassian 
regiments. 

"  Oh,  you  dear  old  Tiflis,  how  I  love  you  !"  she 
exclaimed.  "  "What  a  gorgeous  assembly  this  is ! 
Do  you  know,  I  cannot  believe  such  a  thing  could 
happen  anywhere  else  in  the  world  as  happened 
here  to-night.  There  was  the  stage,  with  the 
King,  and  Aida  and  her  companion,  and  the  hero 
coming  in  a  glory  of  color  and  shining  mail,  and 
all  the  brilliant  Oriental  costumes  of  a  hundred 
men  and  women  of  Egypt  of  old,  and  I  turned 
and  looked  behind  me  and  saw  the  same  thing — 
as  if  the  stage  was  a  mirror  reflecting  the  audience 
— the  same  swarthy  faces,  the  same  shining  side- 
arms,  the  same  olive -toned  women,  the  gaudy 
colors  of  velvets  and  soft  silks.  The  actors  were 
imitating  the  spectators.  Oh,  it  was  wonderful ! 
But  Tiflis  is  all  so.  I  pinch  myself  now  and  again 
to  be  sure  I  am  awake." 

"That  gentleman  can't  get  his  overcoat  on," 
said  Mrs.  Barrowe  to  the  prince.  ""Why  don't 
you  help  him?" 

24 


A  MERCHANT  IN  THE  PERSIAN  QUARTER,  TIFLIS 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

"  Please,"  said  the  tall,  ruddy  nobleman,  and  in- 
stantly stepped  behind  the  man  and  assisted  him 
on  with  the  coat,  putting  a  hand  under  it  at  the 
right  moment  to  pull  the  undercoat  down  while 
he  adjusted  the  top  one. 

"Aunt!  aunt!"  Miss  Ethel  wailed,  under  her 
breath.  "  What  possessed  you  ?" 

"  Eh  ?"  Mrs.  Barrowe  replied.  "  The  man  could 
not  get  his  coat  on.  But — h's'h — " 

The  prince  returned,  smiling,  and  as  the  stage- 
bell  rang  at  the  moment,  he  escorted  the  ladies  to 
their  box.  Mrs.  Barrowe  went  ahead,  and  there 
was  time  for  him  to  propose  a  drive  all  round 
Tiflis  for  the  next  afternoon,  an  offer  that  the 
young  lady  said  she  was  sure  her  aunt  would  ac- 
cept. 

"  My  handkerchief  is  on  the  floor ;  pick  it  up, 
please,"  Mrs.  Barrowe  said  to  the  prince.  There 
was  in  her  manner  and  tone  something  very  close 
to  intentional  offending,  and  her  niece's  heart 
went  cold  and  heavy  with  indignation  and  alarm, 
but  the  prince,  with  the  awkwardness  that  was 
his  by  birth,  picked  up  the  trifle  and  smiled,  and 
said  "  please  "  as  he  handed  it  to  the  old  lady. 

"  We  will  not  mind  a  ride  around  the  town," 
she  said,  coldly;  "but  mind,  if  you  say  three 
o'clock,  come  at  three,  or  we  shall  have  gone." 

25 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

The  prince  withdrew,  bowing. 

"  Aunty,  aunty,  I  never  knew  you  to  act  so — or 
to  speak  to  any  one  as  you  do  to  him." 

"I  never  did,"  said  her  aunt.  "He  seems  to 
call  it  out.  He's  your  prince,  Ethel,  dear;  not 
mine.  By-the-way,  I  have  asked  about  him  of  one 
of  the  consuls  here,  and  he  really  is  a  prince,  of  a 
very  old  family,  as  you  heard.  That  is  part  of 
what  I  heard  against  him.  It  shouldn't  be  against 
him,  but,  as  princes  go,  it  is.  He  is  very  poor, 
which  is  not  always  a  fault.  He  and  his  sister 
were  left  a  little  property,  and  she  has  hers  yet. 
His  burned  his  pockets  and  he  got  rid  of  it.  That's 
all  the  ill  I  know  of  him — and  all  the  good,  as 
well." 

While  the  two  women  talked,  the  prince  was 
meeting  what  he  considered  a  crisis  in  his  life.  He 
was  transformed.  Instead  of  the  lifeless,  mechani- 
cally apologetic  being  he  had  appeared,  behold 
him  now,  with  eyes  brightened  by  excitement, 
pushing  men  and  women  out  of  his  way,  and  dart- 
ing about  the  foyer,  the  smoking  and  the  dressing 
rooms,  in  search  of  some  one.  He  stops  at  the 
smoking-room  bar,  and  says  something  to  the  man- 
ager, who  is  displeased,  and  replies  that  it  shall 
not  be.  "  Damn !"  says  the  prince ;  "  it's  got  to 
be.  I  cannot  waste  time  here;  I  have  more  im- 

26 


A  CAUCASIAN   ARMENIAN   IN   NATIONAL  COSTUME 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

portant  affairs."  He  rushes  about  again  and  finds 
the  object  of  his  search  —  the  testy,  sick  colonel 
with  whom  he  travelled  on  the  ship. 

"  I  have  met  that  American  millionairess  and 
the  niece,"  he  says.  "  They  are  here — at  the  Hotel 
d' Orient — I  saw  by  her  face  that  she  can  easily — 
that  I — oh,  damn  !  do  you  not  understand  ? — she 
loves  me.  Now,  please,  I  want  five  hundred 
roubles.  I  take  her  to  see  the  town  to-morrow. 
Will  you  lend  me  so  much  ?" 

"  Five  hundred  cats  and  dogs !"  the  colonel  yells. 
"Why,  you  are  mad.  I  have  taken  my  whole 
staff,  not  to  see  Tifiis,  but  to  see  Paris — Paris — 
and  done  the  whole  place,  wine,  the  dancers  at 
the  Mabille,  supper,  till  daylight,  for  half  that 
sum." 

"Quick!  there  is  no  time,"  says  the  prince. 
"  She  stays  only  a  week,  and  I  must  be  free,  with 
ready  money.  I  can  marry  her,  I  tell  you.  I  will 
pay  you  two  for  one." 

"  I  have  not  got  it,"  says  the  colonel.  "  Be- 
sides, I  do  not  gamble  so  much  at  one  play.  I 
will  pay  you  the  fifteen  roubles  I  owe  you  at  ten 
to-morrow." 

"  Please,  I  will  give  three  roubles  for  one." 

"No;  that  is  positive.  Come  at  ten  for  your 
pay." 

27 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

"  Very  well,  at  that  hour  I  will  show  you  the 
five  hundred  roubles." 

"  Where  will  you  get  them  ?"  the  colonel  asks. 
The  familiarity  of  Kussians  with  one  another, 
even  between  servants  and  masters,  is  surprising. 

"  From  my  sister,"  says  the  prince. 

"  You  scoundrel — you  will  ruin  her,"  says  the 
colonel. 

"  She  shall  be  rich.  I  will  pay  her  five  for  one," 
the  prince  replies,  and  is  off. 

The  next  day,  when  he  was  with  the  ladies,  he 
was  so  merry  as  to  suggest  the  thought  that  he 
had  been  drinking.  His  clothes  were  as  shabby 
as  ever,  but  in  another  twenty -four  hours  he  shone 
with  new  broadcloth  from  top  to  toe,  and  on  his 
fingers  were  several  rings,  one  bearing  the  crest 
of  his  family,  while  a  chain,  curiously  like  a  lady's, 
and  with  a  lady's  little  watch  at  the  end,  en- 
hanced the  effect  of  his  new  prosperity.  "  These 
things,"  he  said  to  Miss  Ethel,  when  she  was  ex- 
amining his  rude  yet  very  curious  seal-ring,  "I 
usually  leave  with  my  sister,  who  keeps  them 
safely."  He  proved  an  assiduous  and  resourceful 
friend,  and  was  with  the  ladies  every  day — and 
nearly  all  of  each  day.  His  hand  was  ever  draw- 
ing small  change  from  his  pockets,  and  money 
seemed  plentiful  with  him.  He  took  them  to  the 

28 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

Eussian  churches,  to  the  mosque  and  the  Turkish 
baths,  to  the  botanical  gardens,  the  military  mu- 
seum —  everything,  in  Tiflis.  Once  he  suggested 
that  the  finest  thing  in  Tiflis — he  had  heard  that 
it  was  the  finest  sight  of  its  kind  in  the  world — 
was  a  view  of  Tiflis  after  dark  from  any  point  on 
the  rim  of  the  bowl  that  holds  it.  It  was  agreed 
that  next  day  they  would  drive  later  than  usual 
and  see  this  spectacle. 

"  I  shall  not  go  with  you,"  Mrs.  Barrowe  said. 
"  I  will  be  driven  to  the  hotel,  and  leave  you  to 
go  on.  Oh  yes,  it  will  be  perfectly  proper  if  M. 
Gola  does  not  misunderstand  it,  and  you  can  set 
him  right  if  he  does.  With  an  open  carriage  and 
a  familiar  Russian  driver,  who  sits  with  his  back 
to  the  team  and  talks  to  you  all  the  while — oh,  it 
will  be  quite  right.  At  all  events,  I  don't  care  so 
much  for  the  lights  as  I  do  for — for  having  you 
see  all  you  can  of  M.  Gola  before  we  leave  him 
here." 

So  it  fell  out  that  the  prince,  the  maiden,  and 
the  ever-familiar  isvostchik  left  Mrs.  Barrowe  at 
her  door,  and  went  across  the  Kur  and  up  through 
the  Georgian  village  to  the  summit  of  the  hill  be- 
hind it.  The  prince  essayed  a  little  tenderness, 
then  grew  bolder,  and  fondled  Miss  Ethel's  hand 
as  it  lay  in  her  lap.  She  told  herself  that  he  was 

29 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

in  love  with  her,  and  marvelled  to  find  that  she 
could  easily  divide  and  analyze  her  own  feelings, 
made  up  of  admiration  of  his  title  and  uncertainty 
about  himself.  She  was  too  modest  to  realize  how 
sensible  a  girl  she  was.  When  the  carriage  had 
climbed  far  past  the  sparse  lights  in  the  last  houses 
she  grew  nervous.  The  growing  tenderness  of 
the  prince,  the  lonely  road,  the  darkness,  her 
knowledge  of  the  fierce,  armed  people — let  these 
excuse  her. 

"  "We  have  gone  far  enough,  monsieur,"  she 
said.  "  We  will  stop  here.  How  do  you  say  that 
in  Russian  ?" 

"  Me  estaniem  zdeas,"  said  he. 

"Me  estaniem  zdeas,"  she  repeated;  "we  will 
stop  here."  The  landau  turned  right  about  so 
that  they  could  look  down  into  the  great  well  of 
lights.  She  stared  like  one  enchanted.  The  prince 
slipped  her  unbuttoned  glove  half  down  her  hand. 
She  seemed  oblivious  of  what  he  did.  He  raised 
her  hand  and  would  have  kissed  it. 

"  Don't  be  silly,"  she  said.  "  There  I  do  draw 
the  line.  But  see,"  she  added,  "how  that  huge 
black  disk  is  flecked,  dotted,  sprinkled — oh,  I  know 
the  exact  word  —  spangled  with  yellow  jets.  I 
have  watched  this  spectacle  from  my  window 
every  night,  but  I  never  saw  it  all  before.  How 

30 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

full  of  loose  patterns  and  figures  it  is !  It  is  like 
looking  down  instead  of  up  at  the  heavens,  only 
that  there  are  clearer,  bigger  lights  —  and  they 
really  look  as  numberless.  There  goes  the  Milky 
Way,  and  there  are  innumerable  new  constella- 
tions. And  oh,  see,  there  is  even  a  shooting-star !" 

"Please,  eet  ees  one  droschka,  perhaps,  going 
down  ze  hill." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  with  impatience — "  if  you  will  be 
practical.  Let  me  have  my  hand  now.  But  oh, 
see  where  the  real  heavens  bend  down  to  meet 
this  artificial  sky !  See  the  dark  rim  between  the 
two,  and  then  star  matching  jet,  and  mass  match- 
ing mass !  I  did  not  know  I  could  be  glad  that 
kerosene  existed." 

That  was  the  last  time  they  were  together  in 
Tiflis,  except  for  a  moment  next  day  to  say  good- 
bye, for  Mrs.  Barrowe  suddenly  announced  that 
they  must  return  to  Baku.  Her  niece  felt  certain 
the  change  of  plan  was  made  to  affect  the  prince 
and  herself,  but  how  or  why  she  did  not  under- 
stand. "We  shall  see  you  again,  M.  Gola,  in  Vladi- 
Kavkas  in  four  or  five  weeks,"  said  Mrs.  Barrowe. 
The  prince  looked  very  unhappy.  He  had  volun- 
teered to  accompany  the  ladies,  but  Mrs.  Barrowe 
discouraged  him. 

"  If  your  prince  was  an  American  or  an  Eng- 
31 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

lishman,"  said  she,  when  they  were  by  themselves 
in  the  diligence,  "  he  would  not  have  risked  a  re- 
fusal. He  would  have  come — he  would  have  ap- 
peared beside  us." 

"You  don't  like  him  any  better,"  said  Miss 
Ethel. 

"  No,  but  I  like  him  just  as  much,"  the  old  lady 
said,  grimly.  "  Dear  me,  I  meant  to  tell  him  to 
take  off  my  shoes  and  put  on  my  fur-lined  boots, 
but  I  forgot  it." 

"You  are  worse  than  rude  to  him,"  said  her 
niece.  "  You  would  not  act  so  if  you  knew  how 
it  hurts  me  to  see  you  make  such  a  false  impres- 
sion of  your  character." 

"I  wonder  he  stands  it,"  the  old  lady  said, 
musingly ;  "  but  he  does,  my  dear,  doesn't  he  ?" 

M.  Gola  went  at  once  to  Yladi-Kavkas,  where 
he  had  long  made  his  home,  and  with  equal  pre- 
cipitation took  up  the  life  he  had  been  accustomed 
to  lead  there — a  course  he  would  not  have  pur- 
sued for  all  that  he  ever  possessed  had  he  not  an- 
ticipated a  month  or  more  of  separation  from  the 
American  ladies.  He  relied,  also,  upon  word  from 
Miss  Ethel  in  advance  of  their  coming.  And, 
more  than  all  else,  he  counted  upon  the  fact  that 
in  Russia  few  persons  whom  tourists  meet  are  able 
to  speak  English,  and  these  do  not  know  the 

32 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

gossip  of  Kussian  circles.  I  am  not  suggesting 
that  the  prince  had  a  "  bad  past "  to  conceal.  It 
was  not  his  past  that  urged  secrecy. 

The  Barrowes  had  not  been  in  Baku  more  than 
two  days,  or  away  from  Tiflis  more  than  five, 
when  the  elder  lady  said :  "  Now  let's  post  straight 
over  the  Caucasus,  and  home.  Please  do  not  tele- 
graph or  write  M.  Gola  of  our  coming.  I  wish 
him  to  surprise  us." 

"  "We  are  to  surprise  him,  you  mean,"  said  Mi-is 
Ethel. 

"  Oh,  do  I  ?"  her  aunt  replied.  "  Well,  have  it 
as  you  like,  dear." 

They  travelled  in  an  omnibus-diligence,  which 
looked  like  a  buggy  and  a  cab  combined.  It  had 
a  great  hood  in  front  of  the  coach  body,  with  seats 
in  front  by  the  driver,  seats  inside,  and  baggage 
top  and  back.  The  horses  were  changed  several 
times  a  day,  and  each  day  there  were  three  or 
more  stops  for  meals.  The  journey  used  up  all 
the  daylight  hours  of  two  days,  and  was  over  a 
well-made  macadam  road,  set  at  convenient  dis- 
tances with  station  buildings  which  were  com- 
plete hotels.  The  first  day's  ride  was  among  soft, 
round  mountains,  grassy  to  the  tops,  and  every- 
where dotted  with  picturesque  cabins  and  villages, 
whose  people  farmed  the  best  ground  and  used 
c  33 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

the  rest  for  pasturage.  Late  at  night  the  last  stop 
was  at  a  hotel,  where  the  ladies  tried  to  sleep  in 
a  bare,  untidy  room,  without  a  lock  on  the  door, 
while  the  mountain  folk  increased  their  nervous- 
ness by  beating  a  barbaric  drum,  to  weird,  shrill 
music.  There  is  no  real  danger  on  this  well-guard- 
ed, military  way,  but  the  house  was  lonely,  the  noise 
uncanny,  and  the  ladies  were  unduly  impressed  by 
the  fact  that  the  people  were  armed.  The  second 
day's  stages  began  at  daybreak,  through  scenery 
fine  as  any  in  the  Alps.  The  mountains  became 
enormous,  lifting  huge  castellated  crags  of  bare 
rock  above  their  vegetation,  though  in  the  main 
they  were  still  clothed,  at  least  in  places,  to  the 
tops.  They  had  been  populated  for  centuries,  and 
each  village  had  its  crumbling  tower  of  refuge. 
The  peasants  were  seen  cutting  grass  at  such 
heights  that  they  appeared  the  size  of  flies.  The 
diligence  rolled  at  great  speed  downward,  at  last, 
for  hours,  in  towering  canyons,  beside  steep  prec- 
ipices, and  above  a  brawling  river.  Finally  the 
valley  widened  and  widened— into  Europe. 

It  was  night  when  the  diligence  drove  into  the 
posting-yard  at  Yladi-Kavkas,  then,  in  1877,  the 
wickedest  little  city  in  Europe,  where  the  arms 
every  man  wore  were  often  utilized  in  highway- 
manry  and  in  murder.  The  ladies  drove  to  the 

34 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

Hotel  Elbruz,  of  which  it  was  said  that  it  was  no 
dirtier  or  more  untidy  than  every  other  hotel 
there.  Arrived  and  dinner  ordered,  Mrs.  Barrowe 
took  her  niece  by  the  shoulders,  and,  with  kindly 
mischief  in  her  eyes,  pushed  her  against  the  door, 
saying,  "Now,  you  little  title-smitten  republican, 
we  are  in  the  same  house  with  your  prince,  and  I 
want  to  know — are  you  sober,  or  are  you  insane  ?" 

"  Sober,  I  hope,  aunty." 

"Do  you  love  that  lion-colored  shadow  of  a 
wrecked  nobility?" 

"  No,  aunty  ;  I  don't — love — him." 

"  For  that  answer  you  shall  have  a  pearl  neck- 
lace when  we  get  to  Paris.  You  would  love  him 
if  you  found  him  really  noble,  and  proud,  and 
clean,  and  ambitious,  and  independent — what  a 
silly  girl  always  conjures  up  when  she  thinks  of 
a  prince — you  would,  wouldn't  you  ?" 

"  I'm  afraid  I  might,  dear  aunt ;  but  what  is — " 

"H's'h!  You  would,  of  course.  I'll  give  you 
nothing  for  that,  because  it  had  to  be  so.  But 
now  if  you  found  him  unambitious,  servile,  hum- 
bling himself  and  disgracing  his  race  for  a  pittance, 
content  with  his  humility,  reduced  to  it  by  laziness 
and  by  worse,  for  every  rouble  he  has  spent  in 
our  company  is,  I  find,  the  money  of  his  sister, 
whose  tiny  portion  he  is  rapidly  squandering  (oh, 

35 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

I'll  see  that  she  does  not  suffer,  never  fear) — 
squandering  as  he  first  squandered — " 

"  Oh,  aunt,  are  you  sure  of  all  this  ?" 

"It's  here  in  black  and  white,  twice — from  my 
lawyer  in  Baku,  and  again  from  an  official  in 
Tiflis.  If  it  is  true,  you  will  be  convinced  of  it 
by  the  prince  himself  here  to-night,  according  to 
these  letters,  which  I  have  received  within  a  week. 
But,  as  I  was  saying,  if  your  prince  is  without 
pride,  without  ambition,  without  self-respect,  or 
an  independent  spirit,  you  will  never  love  him 
for  the  title  he  disgraces?" 

"Not  if  he  were  the  Czar,"  said  the  girl, 
firmly. 

"For  that,  when  we  get  to  Paris,  you  shall 
have — " 

"  Dear  aunt,  this  is  not  a  thing  to  joke  about. 
I  will  have  nothing  from  you  in  Paris.  I  mean  it ; 
you  need  not  offer  me  anything.  The  idea — that 
— that  you  should — should  think" — and  here,  af- 
ter the  kindly,  shrewd  old  lady  has  pulled  the  sen- 
timental young  one  on  her  knee  and  is  pressing 
two  wet  eyes  against  her  breast,  we  will  shut  the 
door  and  intrude  no  further.  As  we  do  so,  we 
may  not  help  hearing  the  elder  woman  say : 

"  He  is  only  shiftless,  and  though  he  is  not  fit 
for  you,  truly,  Ethel,  he  is  a  better  man  than  many 

36 


"UK   KECOGSIZED   THEM   WHEN   TEN   FEET  AWAY" 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

so-called  noblemen  at  whose  heads  our  silly  coun- 
trywomen have  flung  themselves." 

Thirty  minutes  later  the  ladies  descended  to  the 
dining-room.  Miss  Ethel  led  the  way,  and  the 
first  person  she  saw  was  the  prince,  with  one  side 
towards  her,  with  a  soiled  napkin  on  one  arm, 
smoothing  down  a  man's  overcoat  with  one  hand, 
and  holding  the  other  out  to  receive  the  kopecks 
the  man  was  bestowing  as  a  tip.  She  walked  to 
a  table,  and  she  and  her  aunt  were  seated  before 
the  prince  moved  towards  them.  He  recognized 
them  when  ten  feet  away,  and  tried  to  fling  his 
napkin  into  a  chair  without  their  seeing  the  act. 
He  came  bowing  and  scraping  up  to  them,  and 
the  younger  lady  watched  the  elder  one  for  her 
cue.  Mrs.  Barrowe  rose  and  greeted  him  quite  in 
the  old  way,  and  her  niece  did  the  same. 

"And  now  that  we  have  met  you  again,"  said 
Mrs.  Barrowe,  "  pick  up  your  napkin,  and — wait 
one  second — get  us  two  plates  of  borsch,  broiled 
chicken  and  cauliflower  for  two,  a  pint  of  Bess- 
arabian  claret,  and  a  bottle  of  Borgom  water.  Oh 
yes,  and  whatever  sweets  you  have  also." 

The  prince's  face  was  scarlet  to  his  hair.  He 
said  that  another  man  would  serve  them,  and 
Mrs.  Barrowe  replied  that  "  it  might  be  pleas- 
anter."  Miss  Ethel  could  scarcely  pretend  to  eat, 

37 


A    PRINCE    OF    GEORGIA 

and  sat  in  agony,  while  her  aunt  placidly  made 
her  way  through  a  hearty  meal.  The  prince  dis- 
appeared, but  when  both  were  leaving  the  room 
he  came  and  detained  the  younger  lady,  and  with 
something  like  real  passion  in  his  voice  asked, 
"  Cannot  this  be  forgiven  ?" 

"  Not  in  a  gentleman,"  said  Mrs.  Barrowe,  over 
one  shoulder. 

"May  I  not  make  m}rself  known  to  you  in  a 
better  way  ?"  he  pleaded.  "  I  can  prove  that  my 
family—" 

"  Me  estaniem  zdeas,"  Miss  Ethel  said.  "  You 
taught  me  that.  You  know  what  it  means.  It 
is  better  so." 


WHEN  THE  CLOUDS  FELL  DOWN 

THE  two  most  unhappy  young  persons  in  Lon- 
don, one  November  day,  were  hurrying  tow- 
ards happiness  without  knowing  it — towards 
united  happiness,  without  one  suspecting  that  the 
other  was  on  the  same  hemisphere ;  towards  joy, 
which  could  only  be  attained  by  the  quickest, 
hardest  work,  in  the  face  of  great  difficulty,  and 
by  the  help  of  what  we  call  "  all  the  chances  " — 
nearly  every  one  of  which  happened  to  be  against 
them. 

Helen  Woolland  was  walking  down  the  street 
called  St.  Mary  Abbott's  Terrace,  in  Kensington, 
with  her  face  towards  Knightsbridge.  She  was 
moving  very  slowly,  and  so  nearly  aimlessly,  at 
first,  that  a  very  little  thing  might  have  turned 
her  steps  in  quite  another  direction — the  sight  of 
a  former  schoolmate  or  servant,  for  instance. 

This  was  because  her  face  was  swollen  and  a 
trifle  purple  about  the  eyes  from  crying,  and  be- 
cause her  brain  felt  numb  and  her  spirit  limp  from 

39 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

the  intense  and  prolonged  excitement  under  which 
she  had  labored.  You  never  would  have  guessed 
how  pretty  a  girl — she  was  eighteen — she  had  been 
a  week  before,  or  would  be  a  day  hence. 

"Mr.  Staple  will  be  there  to-night,"  she  said, 
talking  to  herself,  as  we  do,  without  speaking. 
"If  I  should  marry  him,  I  should  not  have  to 
go  to  Aunt  Hannah's  in  Australia.  By  the  terms 
of  the  will  I  could  live  here ;  but  I  would  rather 
die  than  marry  him,  and  I  would  rather  die  than 
go  to  my  aunt's.  Die  ?  Is  there  anything  else 
left  for  me  ?  "Was  ever  girl  so  miserable  ?" 

A  little  farther  along  the  street  she  asked  her- 
self where  she  was  walking,  and  why.  She  had 
believed  that  but  five  hours  of  liberty  remained  to 
her  in  this  life — before  the  reading  of  her  father's 
will  made  her  a  captive  to  her  aunt,  that  odious 
will,  whose  contents  she  knew  too  well.  "  I  must 
have  air,"  she  had  said  to  Miss  Jollitt  at  the  board- 
ing-school where  she  had  ceased  to  be  a  pupil  but 
remained  as  a  boarder.  "  I  must  be  out  in  the  air, 
and  I  must  walk  at  least  four  of  my  last  five  hours." 
Miss  Jollitt  had  said,  "  Promise  not  to  do  anything 
rash;  to  come  back;  not  to  run  away."  And 
Helen  had  replied,  "  Dear  Miss  Jollitt,  I  am  too 
cowardly  to  kill  myself,  and  there  is  nowhere  to 
run  to,  so  I  must  come  back." 

40 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

Nevertheless,  she  half  suspected  that  the  walk 
might  turn  into  running  away,  never  to  come  back 
— as,  indeed,  it  proved  in  the  end.  But  whichever 
it  should  be,  she  determined  that,  walking  or  run- 
ning away,  she  would  go  Piccadilly  way,  just  to 
have  a  last  look  at  the  old  shops,  from  one  to 
another  of  which  she  had  so  often  dawdled  with 
Harry  Ledyard  in  the  happy  days  when  her  heart 
swelled  with  merely  being  by  his  side,  and  when, 
in  its  innermost  recesses,  she  regarded  him  as  her 
beau,  as  all  the  girls  did,  as  everybody  did,  except 
Harry  himself. 

And  now  it  was  four  and  a  half  hours  from  eight 
o'clock,  when  the  reading  of  the  will  would  take 
place,  and  it  would  be  declared  that,  being  unmar- 
ried, she  must  accept  as  her  guardian  her  uncle 
and  aunt,  and  as  her  home  theirs  in  Sydney.  Mr. 
Staple,  brother  to  her  aunt's  first  husband,  and  the 
idol  of  the  old  lady's  life,  would  attend  the  read- 
ing, and  would  take  her  and  her  aunt  to  Australia. 
He  would  press  his  tireless  suit  for  her  hand  dur- 
ing every  day  of  that  long  voyage.  She  never 
would  yield — not  she.  Yet  the  hateful  journey 
would  leave  her  no  better  off  at  its  end.  There, 
in  Sydney,  the  stiff,  forbidding,  repellent  home 
of  her  only  relative,  Aunt  Hannah,  would  be  her 
living  tomb.  That  cold,  stern,  unsympathetic  old 

41 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

lady  would  once  again  order  her  young  life  into 
the  same  narrow,  icy  channels  into  which  she  had 
forced  it  in  London  years  ago,  before  kindly  fate 
had  sent  her  aunt  to  Australia  and  herself  to  Miss 
Jollitt's  school. 

"  Oh,"  she  wailed,  almost  aloud,  "  in  what  cor- 
ner of  the  earth  is  Harry  ?  He  did  not  care  even 
a  little  for  me — and  I  love  him  yet,  oh,  so  much  ! 
Is  he  engaged,  or — married,  or — dead  2"  Alas !  he 
had  vanished,  as  she  might  by  a  mere  spring  from 
Battersea  Bridge.  And  why  should  she  not  ?  But 
in  the  mean  time  she  would  once  more  walk  past 
the  shops  in  Knightsbridge  before  which  she  and 
Harry  had  taken  every  one  of  the  few  walks  they 
had  enjoyed  together,  as  boy  and  girl,  six  or  seven 
years  ago.  A  bit  of  one  of  his  caps — a  square  of 
blue  flannel  with  the  cross  of  his  school  worked  on 
it  in  silver  thread — was  in  her  purse  at  that,  mo- 
ment. 

"  I'd  feel  some  little  comfort  if  I  pinned  it  to  my 
dress  again,  as  I  did  when  he  gave  it  to  me,"  she 
thought ;  and  with  the  thought  she  pinned  the  lit- 
tle blue  square  to  her  dress  before  her  heart. 

The  weather  was  such  as  could  only  be  enjoyed 
by  the  English,  who  love  nature  in  its  every  guise, 
and  the  open  air  always,  no  matter  what  its  qual- 
ity. The  day  was  of  the  worst  kind  that  comes  in 

42 


November — London's  worst  month.  A  fog  of  the 
color  of  weak  chocolate  and  milk  hung  before  every 
window,  every  eye.  The  people  within -doors 
groped  in  smoky  air,  as  if  their  houses  were 
afire.  In  the  shops  the  gas-jets,  already  lit,  seem- 
ed to  light  onlv  themselves,  as  diamonds  do.  The 

*/  > 

'buses,  carts,  and  people  in  the  streets,  at  fifty  feet 
away,  were  enlarged  and  spectral,  like  the  spirits 
or  the  shadows  of  themselves,  exaggerated.  The 
still  air  was  chilly  and  penetrating,  and  sulphurous. 
If  London's  millions  had  been  Americans  newly 
arrived,  not  one  could  have  kept  his  teeth  from 
chattering,  except  those  who  were  bakers  at  work 
or  soldiers  swaddled  and  on  parade.  But  the  Eng- 
lish keep  warm  by  exercise,  and  by  the  method  the 
Chinese  have  of  heaping  on  thick  clothing.  Of 
Americans  we  have  none  to  deal  with,  though 
Harry  Ledyard  had  arrived  on  that  day  from  New 
York. 

As  we  come  to  consider  Mr.  Ledyard  and  Miss 
"Woolland  we  shall  gradually  form  the  opinion  that 
the  clouds  that  were  dragged  down  by  their  load 
of  soft-coal  smoke,  and  were  pressing  upon  the 
houses,  parks,  and  streets,  were  also  imprisoning 
all  the  sprites  of  the  upper  air.  We  shall  begin 
soon  to  fancy  that,  as  they  could  not  rise  or  escape, 
they  turned  and  vented  their  spite,  their  mischief, 

43 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

and  their  benefactions  upon  humankind  according 
to  their  elfish  natures  rather  than  the  deserts  of 
their  victims. 

Harry  Ledyard  had  been  a  sheep-raiser  in  Mon- 
tana, having  gone  into  that  pursuit  blindly,  as  so 
many  young  Englishmen  plunge  into  financial  ruin 
in  our  West,  but  with  better  fortune  than  most  of 
them.  When  he  began  the  work  it  was  the  fash- 
ion to  ridicule  "  sheep-men,"  but  it  chanced  that 
just  then  another  fashion  came  in — that  of  eating 
mutton — and  another — that  of  exporting  mutton. 
At  the  last  he  had  found  civilization  cramping  the 
free  ranges,  and  had  come  out  of  Montana  with  an 
amount  of  wealth  such  as  few  men  in  the  once 
luckier  pursuits  of  raising  horses  and  steers  had 
recently  amassed.  He  had  landed  only  that  morn- 
ing, and,  stopping  at  the  office  of  his  lawyer,  had 
listened  to  the  gossip  of  a  clerk,  who  told  him  the 
news  that  the  sweetheart  of  his  boyhood  was  now 
rich  in  her  own  right,  made  so  by  the  death  of  her 
father.  "  But  the  will  declared,"  said  this  gossip, 
"  that  her  father's  town  and  country  houses  were 
to  be  rented  for  her  advantage  unless  she  was  mar- 
ried when  the  will  was  read,  and,  if  she  was  un- 
married, her  aunt  in  Australia  was  to  be  her  guar- 
dian until  such  time  as  she  should  marry  and  return 
to  England." 

44 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

"  Ah,  hum  !"  said  the  clerk.  "  They  say  that 
she  has  vowed  she  will  never  go  to  her  aunt,  whom 
she  detests,  and  as  her  aunt's  favorite,  young  Mr. 
Staple,  was  at  once  telegraphed  for  and  is  in  love 
Avith  her,  they  are  probably  married  by  this  time, 
and  she  is  enjoying  life  in  London." 

It  did  not  become  Mr.  Led}rard  to  gossip  with 
the  clerk  or  to  repose  confidences  in  him.  He 
was  so  much  troubled  by  what  he  had  been  told, 
however,  that  he  set  out  to  expend  his  excitement 
by  physical  exercise,  and  so  he  also  was  walking 
as  Miss  Helen  was  doing.  And  he  was  walking 
towards  her,  bound  for  the  same  row  of  shops  in 
Knightsbridge  which  had  been  the  objective  point 
of  the  strolls  he  and  she  had  taken  years  before — 
the  great  shopping-stores  at  Sloane  Street  for  her 
delight,  the  curio  and  silver  shops  for  the  delecta- 
tion of  both.  Every  day  since  those  walks  he  had 
treasured  them  in  his  memory,  and  so,  we  know, 
had  she.  But  neither  suspected  this  of  the  other. 

"  Heavens !  how  I  did  love  her — and  do !"  he 
said  to  himself.  "  But  she  cannot  have  cared 
much  for  me,  or  why  did  she  leave  my  letter  un- 
answered? When  I  used  to  visit  Aunt  Jollitt, 
where  Helen  went  to  school,  the  plot  which  has 
now  culminated  was  being  deliberately  planned. 
It  is  all  plain  to  see  now.  Staple  and  I  were  both 

45 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

frequent  callers  there,  but  the  field  was  left  to  him, 
and  I  was  sent  away  because  aunt  said  she  had 
been  warned  by  Helen's  people  that  if  anything 
came  of  our  acquaintance  it  would  appear  that 
she  had  manipulated  the  match  by  unfair  means, 
and  her  school  would  lose  its  place  in  the  good- 
will of  its  patrons.  She  scented  financial  ruin, 
and  I  broke  off  my  visits  and  went  to  America. 
Had  Helen's  father  been  in  London,  instead  of 
living,  God  knows  how  or  why,  on  a  hunting-trip 
ten  years  prolonged,  in  Central  Asia,  I  should 
have  gone  to  him  and  begged  his  sanction  of  a 
formal  suit  for  Helen's  hand.  I  never  dreamed 
that  Staple  would  succeed.  Helen  was  always 
cold  to  him,  and  vowed  she  had  a  repugnance  for 
him.  And  so  now  she  is  his  bride !  Poor  girl ! 
she  must  have  been  driven  to  take  the  step.  And 
I,  who  came  hoping  what  seemed  the  most  reason- 
able, as  they  certainly  were  the  sweetest  hopes, 
am  stunned  and  dazed,  and  my  heart  has  turned 
to  marble." 

He  was  so  completely  oblivious  of  his  surround- 
ings that  had  the  wooden  roadway  of  Piccadilly 
turned  into  a  trail,  and  the  Albert  Gate  Mansions 
before  him  suddenly  become  a  Montana  mountain- 
peak,  he  would  not  have  been  surprised;  indeed, 
I  doubt  if  he  would  have  noticed  it. 

46 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

The  blind  elf  Hazard  was  guiding  his  steps  and 
hers  towards  the  good  fortune  of  a  meeting,  but  a 
less  amiable  imp,  called  Misrule,  had  laid  a  finger 
on  the  foreheads  and  lips  of  both  of  them,  as  we 
shall  see. 

Ledyard  came  to  the  queer  little  shop  at  the 
point  of  the  wedge  of  buildings  which  force  them- 
selves between  a  part  of  Hyde  Park  and  Piccadilly 
— a  shop  of  the  size  of  a  hall  bedroom,  occupied 
by  a  dealer  in  antique  china  and  glass.  Every- 
body knows  the  place,  with  its  single  little  window 
always  full  of  constantly  changing  treasures  in 
bric-a-brac.  Here  the  old-time  strolls  of  Helen 
and  Harry  had  always  ended.  Harry  almost  un- 
consciously stopped  and  turned  to  face  the  win- 
dow, seeing  nothing  at  first,  but  gradually  realizing 
that  this  was  indeed  a  landmark  in  his  dream  of 
love.  A  tall,  slender  young  woman  in  black  was 
there  before  him,  looking  at  an  image  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Caudle  in  their  porcelain  bed,  at  a  riveted 
Nanking  dish,  a  cracked  bowl  of  singsong  ware, 
and  all  the  rest.  She  had  seen  all  she  wished,  and 
stepped  back  to  turn  and  walk  away,  but  one  of 
her  heels  fell  with  considerable  force  directly  upon 
one  of  Ledyard's  boots.  Swiftly  then  she  turned 
to  beg  his  pardon.  Her  words  caught  fast  be- 
tween her  lips,  and  she  looked  again  at  him,  so 

47 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

searchingly  that  he  now  stared  at  her.  All  he 
saw  was  a  very  tall  young  blonde,  straight  as  an 
arrow  and  with  a  strange  blending  of  girlishness 
and  womanliness,  of  departing  diffidence  and  new 
budding  gravity,  in  her  oval  face,  with  its  skin, 
that  was  like  polished  ivory,  reflecting  the  hue  of 
light-red  roses.  He  did  not  afterwards  remember 
to  have  noticed  how  swollen  were  the  lids  of  her 
tender  blue  eyes. 

"  Harry  ! — Mr. — "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Miss ! — Mrs. ! — Helen !  is  it  you  ?"  he  almost 
shouted. 

She  put  out  a  hand,  then  both  hands,  and  tot- 
tered forward,  falling  in  a  dead  swoon  in  his 
arms. 

It  was  more  than  half  an  hour  later — it  was 
after  half  past  four  o'clock — when,  revived  by  the 
joint  exertions  of  Harry  and  the  shopman,  she 
rose  unsteadily  from  the  chair  in  the  little  shop 
of  the  curio-dealer,  and  they  walked  together, 
arm  in  arm,  into  Hyde  Park.  Strength  came 
quickly  with  the  strain  of  her  new  and  joyous  ex- 
citement, and  they  walked  on  and  on  to  Kensing- 
ton Gardens,  and  to  a  bench  under  the  great  trees 
in  an  almost  deserted  corner  of  the  old  royal  park. 
The  badge  of  Henry's  school-days  was  on  her 
left  side — the  side  farthest  from  him — where  the 

48 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

edge  of  her  jacket  half  hid  it  so  that  he  had  not 
noticed  it. 

They  had  talked  of  her  father's  death,  and  now 
he  was  answering  her  eager  questions  about  him- 
self and  his  experiences  in  the  American  "West. 
They  were  losing  time,  precious  time,  and  there 
was  not  a  second  to  spare.  But  how  were  they  to 
know  that? 

"  Your  aunt  came  to  England.  Is  she  still 
here  ?" 

"  Yes ;  she  came  to  attend  the  reading  of  father's 
will.  She  was  advised  that  it  would  be  necessary." 

"  And  Mr.  Staple.  Was  not  he  the  brother  of 
her  first  husband  ?" 

"  He  is." 

"  I  beg  pardon ;  is,  of  course.  Will  he  live  in 
London,  I  was  going  to  ask  ?" 

"  Nothing  is  yet  settled,"  Helen  replied ;  "  but 
I  suppose  it  will  be  as  before — half  the  time  here 
and  half  the  time  with  aunt." 

"  Helen,  you  have  been  crying." 

"  I  have  been  very  unhappy." 

"Unhappy?  Good  heavens!  How?"  But  he 
stopped  himself,  for  he  remembered  he  had  no 
right  to  ask  a  married  woman  why  she  was  un- 
happy, or  even  to  hear  why,  if,  as  he  suspected, 
her  marriage  made  her  so. 
D  49 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

"Unhappy  is  a  weak  word  for  what  I  have  been 
till  this  great  pleasure  of  meeting  so  old  and 
precious  a  friend  befell  me.  And  I  shall  be  as 
miserable  again  to-morrow.  But  let  us  not  talk 
of  my  little  troubles." 

"  I  am  dreadfully  sorry,"  said  he. 

There  was  a  pause,  and  the  perverse  moments 
sped. 

"May  I  talk  of  my  one  great  trouble? — for  it 
has  been  a  great  one,  Helen  —  forgive  me  for 
calling  you  so.  I  mean — " 

"  Oh,  do  call  me  so !  Don't  deny  me  the  least 
bit  of  this  magical  revival  of  the  sweet  past," 
said  she.  "  That  would  be  cruel  indeed.  I  shall 
call  you  Harry  while  I  live,  if  I  may." 

"God  bless  you!  —  I  mean,  I  thank  you  so 
much,"  said  he.  "I  was  going  to  speak  of  my 
single  yet  very  great  trouble.  Why  have  I  never 
heard  from  you  in  all  these  years  ?  Why  did  you 
let  me  leave  England  without  a  word  ?" 

"Oh,  how  can  you  ask  that?"  she  exclaimed. 
"  How  could  I  write  to  you,  or  even  send  you  a  word?" 

"  And  why  not  2" 

The  moments  kept  swelling  to  minutes,  and 
flying  away. 

"After  the  way  you  broke  with  me — without 
even  a  good-bye." 

50 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

"I  was  boyish,  foolish;  I  could  not  trust  my- 
self to  speak  the  word  farewell.  I  feared  to  do 
so  lest  more  than  '  good-bye '  might  follow ;  I  was 
so  fond  of  you— may  I  say  that,  now  that  all  is 
over  ?" 

At  these  three  last  words  Helen's  heart  stopped 
beating,  and  she  feared  it  would  never  beat  again, 
at  the  same  time  dreading  the  thought  that  per- 
haps it  might  return  to  its  work,  for  whether  "all 
is  over  "  meant  that  he  was  married,  or  only  that 
he  was  cured  of  his  love  by  time,  what  did  it 
matter,  so  long  as  the  fact  remained  ? 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  she,  hoping  for 
light  upon  his  words. 

"  It  was  as  I  wrote  you,"  said  Ledyard.  "  Aunt 
Jollitt  had  been  warned  by  your  uncle,  or  step- 
uncle,  that  if  my  visits  had  any  serious  conse- 
quences it  might  be  said  that  the  dear  old  lady 
used  her  school  to  make  matches  for  her  relatives. 
She  forbade  my  ever  seeing  you  again  while  you 
were  at  her  school ;  indeed,  she  exacted  a  promise 
that  I  would  not  do  so." 

"You — you — liked  me,  you  say,  and  yet  you 
could  be  made  to  promise  to  violate  common  po- 
liteness by  leaving  without  even  a  'good-bye' — 
without  a  word  of  explanation?" 

"  A  word  of  explanation  ?"  he  exclaimed.  And 
51 


the  minutes  sped  on  and  on.  "  I  wrote  you  eight 
pages  of  explanation.  Oh,  why  should  we  revive 
such  bitter  memories,  Helen  ?  I  ceased  calling  at 
the  school  from  a  sense  of  duty  and  affection  tow- 
ards my  aunt,  but  I  wrote  you  a  letter  showing 
you  how  by  a  single  word,  if  only  *  yes,'  or  '  wait,' 
you  could  hold  me — as  God  knows  you  have  held 
me — by  my  heart-strings.  I  told  you  the  slightest 
word  of  encouragement  would  bind  me  to  you  for- 
ever. And  you  did  not  answer  even  a  word. 
Staple  filled  your  time  and  thoughts.  Of  course 
it  is  not  for  me  to  blame  or  criticise  you,  though 
why  you  treated  me  so  is  all  plain  now." 

"  For  shame,  Harry  !  Mr.  Staple  never  saw  me 
once,  except  for  five  minutes  on  two  occasions 
when  he  was  leaving  England,  and  in  the  presence 
of  your  aunt.  But  I  will  not  defend  myself  until 
you  have  answered  me.  How  did  you  write,  and 
when  ?  By  what  means  did  you  send  the  let- 
ter?" 

"  You  never  got  it,  Helen  2" 

"  Oh,  Harry,  need  I  swear  it  ?  You  know  I 
never  did.  We  were  but  boy  and  girl ;  we  had 
not  talked  of  serious  things,  of  our  affection,  not 
even  lightly  ;  but  you  were  my  idol,  my  hero,  and 
you  dare  to  think  I  got  a  farewell  letter  from  you 
and  did  not  answer  it !" 

52 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

Here  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands  and  sobbed 
— while  the  minutes  sped. 

"  I  sent  you  a  fancy  pasteboard  box  of  station- 
ery—" 

"  Yes." 

"  The  letter  was  in  the  box." 

"  Oh,  Harry  !"  she  said,  excitedly.  "  I  have  the 
box  yet.  I  have  kept  it  exactly  as  I  got  it.  The 
ribbons  and  bow-knots  have  never  been  untied.  I 
have  looked  at  it  and  caressed  it  a  thousand  times, 
but  have  never  even  taken  out  the  paper  and 
packets  of  envelopes.  Then  the  letter  must  be 
there  yet !" 

"For  gracious'  sake,  did  you  think  I  would  send 
you  all  that  blank  paper  and  not  one  sheet  of  writ- 
ing ?  Did  you  not  know  the  silly  box  was  merely 
a  means  of  conveying  something  more  important 
to  you  ?" 

"  Of  course,  of  course.  I  see  it  now,  though  it 
never  occurred  to  me  before.  Of  what  use  were 
my  senses  if  they  could  not  lead  me  to  that  letter?" 

"  Well,  please  send  it  back  to  me  now,  when  you 
find  it,  to  the  Cadogan  Hotel.  Can  you  remember, 
or  shall  I  write  it  ?" 

"  Send  it  to  you  ?  Indeed  I  shall  not !  Perhaps 
you  will  ask  me  to  send  you  back  this  badge  as 
well?" 

53 


She  showed  him  the  bit  of  his  old  blue  cloth  cap, 
with  the  school  emblem  embroidered  upon  it. 

"  Helen,"  said  he,  puzzled  and  a  trifle  scandalized, 
"  you  will  not  send  me  back  a  love-letter  ?  And 
you  are  wearing  that  badge  ?  Am  I  insane — or 
are  you  ?  Does  Mr.  Staple — " 

"  Oh,  bother  Mr.  Staple !  Why  so  constantly 
drag  him  in?  I  never  dreamed  you  could  be  jeal- 
ous." 

"  Jealous  ?  Drag  Mr.  Staple  in  ?"  Harry  re- 
peated. 

"  Yes,"  Helen  answered.  "  "What  on  earth  is 
Mr.  Staple  to  me  ?" 

"  Only  your  husband,  I  hear." 

"  My  husband  !"  She  stared  at  him,  then  burst 
into  the  first  fit  of  laughter  that  had  come  to  her 
relief  in  a  month.  "  I  believe  he  is  due  in  London 
to-night.  I  am  warned  that  he  comes  to  propose 
to  me.  He  was  expected  to  reach  here  yesterday 
and  to  marry  me  last  evening,  if  he  could,  so  that 
— God  forgive  me ! — so  that  he  could  at  once  enjoy 
my  property,  which  must  certainly  be  the  only 
thing  about  me  that  attracts  him.  Father's  will 
reads  that  I  was  to  enter  into  possession  and  occu- 
pation of  the  estate  at  once  if  I  was  married  at  the 
time  the  will  was  read.  Dear  father,  without 
meaning  so,  or  dreaming  of  Aunt  Hannah's  plot 

54 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

to  force  me  to  marry  her  step-brother  —  father 
made  a  will  which  gives  her  complete  control  of 
me  unless  I  am  married  to-day,  which  I  am  not. 
Ah  me !  I  scarcely  know  whether  to  say  '  alas !'  or 
« thank  Heaven !' " 

It  was  now  five  o'clock. 

"  When  is  the  will  to  be  read  ?"  Ledyard  asked. 

"  To-night  at  eight  o'clock,  at  the  house  of  a  con- 
nection of  my  aunt's  in  Oakley  Street,  Chelsea." 

"  Good  heavens !  What  is  all  this  you  are  tell- 
ing me  ?"  Ledyard  exclaimed.  "  The  will  to  be 
read  to-night  ?  The  aunt  with  whom  you  used  to 
be  so  unhappy  now  to  become  your  guardian  un- 
less you  are  married — one  might  say — within  the 
next  few  minutes  ?  And  Staple  coming  too  late  to 
avert  this  fate  ?" 

"  Mr.  Staple  never  could  have  helped  or  marred 
any  fate  of  mine,"  Helen  said,  with  emphasis, 
"  and  you  are  cruel  to  pretend  to  think  he  ever 
could." 

There  was  a  pause.  The  moments  still  were 
speeding.  The  heartless  elf  Hazard  had  summoned 
his  gentler  sister  Fortune  to  his  side,  and  together 
they  had  driven  off  the  imp  Misrule,  though,  alas, 
only  for  a  time.  The  fog  hung  lower  and  more 
heavily,  yet  it  almost  seemed  to  Helen  and  Harry 
as  if  the  sun  were  shining. 

55 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

"Why,  Helen!"  lie  exclaimed,  as  the  beautiful 
glow  of  new  hope  flooded  his  understanding. 

"What,  Harry,  dear?"  she  asked — though  she 
well  knew  what  joyous  thoughts  possessed  him. 

"  What  were  you  doing  out  to-day  ?" 

"  Enjoying  ray  last  fe\v  minutes  of  liberty." 

"But  at  the  curio  -  dealer's  window?  Why 
there  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  What  were  you  doing 
there  ?" 

"  I  thought  I  went  there  to  think  of  you,  but 
perhaps — perhaps  Heaven  sent  me  there." 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,"  said  Helen.  "  Heaven  sent 
me,  I  know.  Why  do  you  doubt  it  ?" 

"  I  shall  be  sure  of  it,  Helen,  if  you  say  one  cer- 
tain word.  Little  woman,  I  have  loved  you  steadily, 
more  and  more  and  more,  every  day  for  seven 
years — as  long  as  Jacob  courted  Rachel." 

"  Rachel  loved  Jacob  all  that  time,  didn't  she, 
Harry?  Why  does  no  one  ever  give  Rachel  a 
share  of  credit  for  the  same  constancy,  I  wonder?" 

"  Helen,  kiss  me  !"  he  exclaimed  ;  but  it  was  he 
who  kissed  her,  while  she  swept  the  park  with  a 
hurried  glance  to  see  whether  anything  more  ob- 
servant than  the  spectral  trees  perceived  him. 

"  Now  run  for  your  life,"  said  he,  "  or  I  shall 
kiss  you  a  thousand  times,  publicly,  here  in  this 

56 


WHEN    THE   CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

park.     I  shall  kiss  you  all  away,  every  inch  of 
you." 

"  Please,  may  I  keep  my  boy  lover's  little  school 
badge  ?"  she  asked ;  "  for  you  may  kiss  away  all 
but  that.  But  no,  you  shall  do  as  you  please  with 
me  always,  for  all  time  ;  so  now  begin." 

"  But,  Helen,  there  is  not  an  instant  to  lose. 
The  license,  the  clergyman,  the  witnesses  —  all 
must  be  got  ready  at  once ;  and  the  Town  Hall 
closes  at —  Goodness!  it  may  be  closed  now! 
Will  you  be  ready  in  an  hour,  dear  heart  ?" 

"  I  don't  seem  to  be  consulted  at  all,"  Helen 
pouted.  "  Your  assurance  passes  all  bounds." 

"  Yes,  it  does,  but  there  is  not  time  to  mind 
about  that  now.  I  must  take  a  hansom  to  the 
Town  Hall,  and  then  to  the  church.  What  do 
you  say  to  that  little  chapel  just  off  Earl's  Court 
Road  ?  We  went  there  once,  do  you  remember  ? 
Dear  me,  a  man  ought  to  know  everything,  but  how 
can  he  know  about  marriage  if  he  has  never  done  it 
before  ?  I  do  not  even  know  how  to  get  a  license." 

"  I  do,"  Helen  said.  "  I  went  with  Kitty  Bur- 
leigh,  who  was  to  wait  there  for  herjlance,  and  he 
did  not  come  on  time,  and  they  asked  her  a  few 
questions,  and  before  she  knew  what  they  were 
about  they  handed  her  a  license  all  made  out.  I 
can  do  as  much  as  Kitty  did." 

57 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

"  But  would  you  like  to,  darling  ?" 

"  Not  wholly,  but  I  will  do  it.  "We  must  both 
hurry.  Oh,  Harry,  if  I  had  not  loved  you  with 
my  whole  heart  for  years,  I  should  love  you  now. 
Do  you  know,  I  was  running  away  when  I  met 
you.  Yes,  you  need  not  be  surprised.  At  least, 
I  think  I  was  running  away.  I  was  so  miserable. 
It  seemed  to  me  I  must  commit  suicide,  or  leave 
home  and  start  anew  somewhere.  I  was  too  ar- 
rant a  coward  to  kill  myself;  but  don't  despise 
me,  for  I  was  too  brave  to  endure  the  torture  of 
exile  and  companionship  with  my  aunt.  I  never 
meant  to  hear  father's  will  read." 

"  Poor,  poor  Helen !  But  keep  all  this  till  a 
little  later,"  said  Harry.  "Here,  we  will  jump  in 
a  cab  and  go  together  to  the  Hall,  where  I  will 
leave  you  and  go  on  to  the  chapel.  Please  be  on 
the  steps  of  the  Hall  in  half  an  hour.  There  I 
will  pick  you  up,  and  we  shall  be  married  an  hour 
before  the  will  is  read." 

When  the  minister's  servant  opened  the  door  of 
the  house  to  let  Harry  out,  with  all  his  preliminary 
work  quickly  done,  and  nothing  left  but  to  join 
Helen,  the  dark  substance  like  thick  chocolate 
held  in  solution  in  the  air  pushed  its  way  into 
the  passage  as  smoke  rolls  over  the  ground  or 

58 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

the  sea  after  the  discharge  of  a  monster  can- 
non. 

"  Mercy  !"  the  maid  exclaimed.  "  A  black  fog 
has  fallen.  "Whatever  will  you  do  ?" 

It  was  so  indeed.  The  imp  Misrule  was  again 
enthroned  over  Harry's  destiny  and  Helen's.  A 
black  fog,  the  terror  peculiar  to  London  winters, 
and  not  too  frequently  seen,  else  London  would  be 
uninhabitable,  had  stormed  and  taken  the  me- 
tropolis. It  had  fallen  and  gathered  in  London's 
millions  as  a  circus  tent,  losing  its  supports,  might 
fall  and  envelop  a  lesser  multitude.  As  far  as 
the  life  of  London  and  its  famed  lights  were  con- 
cerned, it  acted  like  a  snuffer  upon  a  burning 
candle.  There  was  nothing  visible  to  Harry  as  he 
stood  on  the  minister's  steps  unless  he  looked 
straight  above  him,  and  then  he  only  thought  he 
could  faintly  see  the  glimmer  of  the  greatest 
planets.  The  maid  had  banged  the  door  the  in- 
stant he  was  beyond  it,  to  keep  out  the  fog,  which 
was  now  oozing  in  around  every  loose  window 
and  door  of  every  carriage  and  'bus  and  house 
and  shop  in  town.  Not  knowing  which  way  to 
turn  towards  the  High  Street,  he  turned  the  wrong 
way,  and  lost  almost  half  an  hour  groping  con- 
trarily  in  the  darkness;  but  in  that  twenty-five 
or  thirty  minutes  he  collided  with  as  many  invisible 

59 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

foot-passengers,  who  were  as  completely  shrouded 
to  his  vision  as  if  they  had  been  spirits  or  he  had 
been  blind.  He  could  not  even  see  a  street  lamp 
until  he  was  close  to  it,  and  then  it  appeared  a 
vague,  nebulous  ball  of  yellow  haze,  like  a  will-o'- 
the-wisp  moving  in  a  cloud  of  steam.  At  last,  by 
asking  his  way  of  a  woman  whom  he  had  all  but 
knocked  down,  he  was  started  in  the  right  direc- 
tion, and  groped  along  more  confidently — in  the 
gutter,  for  safety's  sake — until  he  came  upon  a 
roaring,  turbulent  spot  in  the  black  night,  and  felt 
sure  he  had  found  the  High  Street.  With  two 
more  steps  he  reached  its  pavement,  and  found  it 
swarming  with  silent  working-folk,  moving  slow- 
ly, hesitatingly  ahead  beside  the  hubbub  of  an 
unseen  jam  of  vehicles  in  the  roadway.  A  few 
nebulous  blurs  of  yellow  indicated  near-by  shops, 
and  some  moving  yellow  spots  before  him  sug- 
gested the  presence  of  omnibus  and  cab  lights.  A 
thousand  vehicles  were  caught  in  a  blockade,  and 
from  them  and  their  drivers  he  heard  a  muf- 
fled tumult  of  crashing  noises  as  wagons  collided, 
of  oaths  and  screams  and  shouted  commands,  and, 
of  course,  it  being  London,  frequent  volleys  of 
good-natured  chaffing,  guying,  and  repartee. 

He  had  been  kept  longer  at  the  parsonage  than 
he  had  counted  upon,  and  now  he  had  lost  another 

60 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

half-hour.  The  long  band  of  light  made  by  the 
windows  of  an  omnibus  was  distinguishable  close 
by,  and  he  made  his  way  to  it — or  to  the  conduct- 
or, who  Avalked  ahead,  leading  the  sweating  team 
by  the  light  of  a  lantern  in  a  glass  box.  From 
him  he  learned  that  the  'bus  was  going  towards 
the  Town  Hall,  otherwise  he  could  not  have  known 
whither  it  tended. 

"  'Op  aboard,  if  you  like,"  said  the  conductor. 
"  You'll  be  the  only  fare  on  any  'bus,  if  you  do. 
A  few  minutes  ago  we  all  'ad  loads  inside  and 
out,  but  when  the  fog  shut  down  the  people  got 
frightened  of  what  might  'appen,  and  now  you  can 
'ave  any  'bus  in  the  street  all  to  yourself,  at  the 
hordinary  fare.  And,  oh,  I  say,"  he  called  back, 
"Gord  knows  when  you'll  get  to  the  'All.  I've 
been  crawling  to  this  'ere  turning  and  apast  it 
for  full  arf  an  hour.  What  street  might  that 
be — d'you  know  ?" 

Ledyard  mounted  to  the  roof,  and,  looking  down 
from  it,  could  only  faintly  see  the  horses  between 
the  lights  of  his  'bus  and  those  of  the  one  ahead. 
In  the  same  uncertain  way  he  could  make  out  the 
sombre  bulk  of  whatever  wagon  was  closest  this 
side  of  the  'bus,  but  he  could  not  see  the  horses 
that  were  before  it.  The  'bus  kept  crawling  a  few 
steps  onward  and  meeting  vehicles  and  veering  out 

61 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

of  its  course,  until,  as  the  driver  remarked  between 
his  set  teeth,  "  I'm  blooming  sure  of  one  thing,  and 
that  is  I  dun'no'  where  I  am." 

The  police,  seeing  no  better  than  any  one  else, 
had  failed  to  keep  apart  the  up-stream  and  the 
down-stream  of  traffic,  and  so  the  two  currents  had 
blended  and  tangled.  Hundreds  of  wheels  were 
locked,  and  all  might  have  been  in  a  vehicular 
eddy  and  going  round  and  round  for  aught  any 
man  could  say.  Ledyard  felt  that  he  knew  one 
thing  more  than  the  driver,  and  that  was  that  if  he 
were  ever  to  try  to  describe  a  just  conception  of 
the  abode  of  eternal  torment  he  would  give  an  ac- 
count of  his  experience  on  that  'bus  in  that  black 
fog — of  the  babel  of  voices,  the  crash  of  collisions, 
the  mysterious,  fearsome  strain  upon  his  nerves, 
the  blindness  and  the  impotence  that  were  com- 
bined in  that  situation.  To  hear  the  air  beaten  all 
around  him  by  shrieks,  cat-calls,  shouts,  and  idle 
jokes,  and  to  see  no  single  being  from  whom  a 
sound  proceeded,  was  as  close  to  a  hellish  sensation 
as  he  ever  wanted  to  approach. 

He  pulled  out  his  watch  and  struck  a  match  to 
see  its  face.  It  was  a  quarter  past  six  o'clock. 
Helen  had  been  waiting  an  hour  and  a  half.  Per- 
spiration had  broken  out  all  over  him  long  before, 
and  now  his  damp  body  was  chilled  to  the  marrow. 

62 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

Imagination  had  opportunity  to  run  riot,  and  he 
wondered  all  things.  What  if  the  crowd  should 
be  assailed  by  rowdies?  What  if  a  fire-engine 
should  come  dashing  along?  What  if  a  horse 
should  run  away?  But  these  things  he  knew 
were  impossible.  He  thought  of  what  a  mercy  it 
was  that  a  calamity  such  as  the  falling  of  a  black 
fog  never  befell  Paris,  where  the  most  terrible 
creatures  in  Christendom  would  rise  in  great 
swarms,  as  out  of  the  earth,  to  rob  and  garrote 
and  riot  under  cover  of  that  sooty  blanket.  And 
in  the  midst  of  this  thought  the  fog  was  caught 
up,  or  dried  up,  or  soaked  into  the  earth,  and  there 
he  was,  close  to  Allen  Street,  and  not  two  blocks 
from  Helen.  He  heard  the  sigh  of  relief  of  thou- 
sands of  men  and  women,  like  the  letting-off  of 
steam.  He  saw  the  mighty  tangle  of  'buses,  cabs, 
carriages,  and  vans,  the  pale  faces  of  the  frightened 
women  in  the  barouches  and  hansoms,  the  swarm 
of  humanity  on  the  pavements,  the  police  still  at 
their  posts  in  the  middle  of  the  road.  He  leaped 
down  the  'bus  steps,  dashed  into  the  thick  of  the 
tangle  of  wheels,  dodged  this  way  and  that  under 
horses'  heads  and  wagon  -  poles,  and  was  within 
fifty  feet  of  the  Vestry  Hall,  when  —  the  fog 
shut  down  again,  like  the  screen  of  a  camera, 
and  blotted  out  everything,  leaving  Ledyard 

63 


in  an  atmosphere  muddier  and  denser  than  be- 
fore. 

Against  the  crowd  on  the  pavement  he  could  not 
make  the  headwa}'  of  a  tortoise.  A  man  carrying 
a  blazing  torch  of  resinous  wood,  such  as  the  South 
Sea  Islanders  use,  passed  him,  and  he  wondered 
how  such  a  torch  could  be  got  in  London,  and  so 
quickly.  When  it  was  too  late  it  occurred  to  him 
that  he  should  have  bought  it.  A  minute  or  two 
later  there  approached  him  a  lamp — an  ordinary 
household  kerosene-burning  lamp,  carried  in  a  soap- 
box. Behind  it  stood  an  invisible  boy,  holding  it 
above  his  head.  Ledyard  bought  the  lamp  and 
box  for  five  shillings,  and  by  its  help  gained  much 
time  in  picking  his  way  through  the  dense,  silent, 
ghostly  crowd.  On  the  steps  of  the  Hall,  in  its 
doorway,  stood  Helen  Woolland. 

"  Oh,  thank  God  !  thank  God  !"  said  Ledyard. 
"  I  have  died  a  thousand  deaths  in  an  hour  for  fear 
you  would  not  be  here." 

"  I  should  have  stayed  here  if  it  had  been  till  day- 
light," said  she.  "  Have  you  any  way  of  knowing 
the  time  ?" 

By  holding  his  watch  up  to  the  lamp  he  saw 
that  it  was  close  upon  seven  o'clock. 

"  Have  you  the  license  ?"  he  whispered. 

"  Yes ;  and  you  ?"  she  replied. 

64 


IN  THE   BLACK  FOG 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

"  Everything  is  arranged,"  said  he.  "  We  were 
to  have  been  at  the  chapel  by  this  time.  They 
will  not  wait  above  half  an  hour.  But,  dear  Helen, 
I  could  not  guarantee  to  go  to  St.  Mary  Abbott's, 
only  one  turning  from  here,  in  that  time." 

"  Oh,  what  shall  we  do  ?"  she  moaned. 

"  We  shall  succeed,"  said  he.  "  Though  all  the 
imps  of  Erebus,  who  have  brought  on  this  dark- 
ness simply  to  delay  us,  and  who  made  us  stand 
talking  at  cross-purposes  almost  an  hour  in  the 
park,  and  who  managed  to  make  a  clerk  in  the 
city  misinform  me  about  you  when  I  arrived  this 
morning  —  though  all  of  them  combine,  yet  we 
shall  succeed." 

"We  shall!  we  shall!"  Helen  almost  shouted. 
"I  was  all  downcast,  Harry,  but  your  splendid 
courage  picks  me  up  again." 

They  groped  their  way  across  the  street  and 
stopped  a  hansom  going  in  the  wrong  direction,  so 
that  it  could  turn  out  of  the  tangle  without  having 
to  cross  the  road,  which  would  have  been  impos- 
sible. An  offer  of  a  half-sovereign  interested  the 
cabby,  and  presently  they  were  moving  again,  by 
fits  and  starts.  All  the  'bus  conductors  now  car- 
ried lanterns  or  boxed  lamps  and  walked  in  the 
road,  and  every  cabby,  their  own  included,  had  left 
his  box  and  was  leading  his  horse.  Nothing  was 

E  65 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

visible  except  near-by  steam-like  moons  of  yellow 
where  the  nearest  lights  were  moving.  The  im- 
patient couple  noticed  that  every  horse  which  came 
into  view  for  an  instant  was  wet  with  perspiration, 
and  was  dropping  thick  white  flecks  along  the 
road.  The  poor  beasts,  on  whom  the  drivers  de- 
pended, were  more  nervous  than  the  men,  for  they 
knew  what  reliance  was  placed  upon  them.  The 
cab  ran  against  something,  was  lifted  lurch ingly, 
and  fell  back  with  a  thud.  The  driver  had  fallen 
prone  over  the  same  obstacle — a  prostrate  lamp- 
post. 

"  Good  job  we  'aven't  run  on  the  pavement,"  said 
the  cabby. 

"  You're  jolly  well  on  it  now,"  some  one  shouted. 
Then  there  were  heard  women's  screams,  the  clash- 
ing of  a  horse's  shoes  on  the  pavement,  and,  finally, 
a  violent  jolt  of  the  wheels  against  the  curb.  There 
were  a  score  of  such  incidents.  Only  think !  the 
street  lights,  though  incandescent  lamps,  could 
only  be  sighted  at  ten-feet  distance,  and  then  they 
looked  like  the  effect  of  an  arrested  oar-stroke  in 
phosphorescent  water.  An  omnibus,  which  is  usu- 
ally like  a  brilliant  lantern  on  fair  nights,  now  dis- 
appeared in  fifteen  feet. 

Helen  clung  to  Ledyard.  "  I  am  so  frightened," 
said  she ;  "  it  seems  like  the  end  of  the  world — 

66 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

only  more  terrible  than  any  sort  of  ending  I  ever 
imagined.  And  the  air  is  so  clammy  and  cold  and 
suffocating.  It  is  like  the  breath  of  Death  him- 
self." 

She  had  never  been  out  in  such  a  fog  before. 
But  all  things  must  end,  and  in  time  a  turning  was 
found,  and  their  route  lay  along  quiet  streets  the 
rest  of  the  way.  The  driver  led  his  horse.  Harry 
walked  ahead,  carrying  the  box  and  lamp.  Fair 
progress  without  mishap  was  made,  but  he  was  so 
late  and  impatient  that  his  watch  was  almost  con- 
stantly in  his  hand.  At  the  chapel  the  cabby  was 
easily  tempted  to  wait  until  the  agitated  young 
couple  returned,  to  be  taken  to  Oakley  Street. 

"  It  is  ten  minutes  to  eight  o'clock,"  said  Led- 
yard,  looking  at  his  watch  by  match-light,  and 
speaking  as  one  who  read  his  death-sentence  in  the 
face  of  his  time-piece. 

"Then — then  it  has  all  been  for  nothing.  It 
is  useless  to  go  on,  isn't  it  ?"  Helen  asked.  Her 
nerves  had  suffered  more  than  even  she  imagined, 
and  her  courage  was  now  all  but  gone. 

"  Helen,  you  must  decide  what  to  do  now,"  said 
Ledyard,  checking  her  in  the  porch  before  the 
chapel  door,  which  was  outlined  with  a  thin  frame 
of  welcoming  light.  "  Let  us  think  a  moment  be- 
fore it  is  too  late.  Enemies  and  evil  folk  may  say 

67 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

that  this  has  been  a  race  into  which  I  have  led  you 
that  I  may  gain  your  houses  and  your  money — " 

"  Oh,  Harry,  don't !  I  will  not  hear  such  talk 
even  from  you." 

"  But  wait.  I  am  selfish — very.  I  have  raced  for 
something — for  you — for  the  right  to  call  you  mine. 
I  am  honest,  you  see.  But  you  must  decide.  It  is 
now  evident  that  unless  the  fog  lifts  we  cannot 
reach  the  house  in  Chelsea  by  eight  o'clock.  It  is 
impossible." 

"  But  we  can  be  married  before  eight  o'clock," 
said  she,  changing  her  attitude  to  what  had  been 
his.  "  That  is  all  we  have  been  trying  to  do.  You 
are  as  excited  as  I,  I  really  believe.  Come,  there 
is  not  a  minute  to  lose." 

"  But  the  ceremony  cannot  possibly  be  per- 
formed in  the  seven  or  eight  minutes  that  remain." 

"  Come,  come,  Harry,"  Helen  argued.  "  Don't 
let  us  turn  back  now." 

He  was  glad  to  have  her  lead  him.  He  had 
lost  the  impetus  of  his  first  ardent  emotion,  and 
now,  in  cool  sobriety,  did  not  wish  to  dominate 
this  most  important  act  of  both  their  lives.  But 
she  was  leading  him  now  as  he  had  been  minded 
to  lead  her,  and  he  followed  willingly. 

They  were  man  and  wife  when  they  were  in  the 
hansom  again,  limp  and  dejected,  at  twenty  min- 
es 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

utes  past  eight  o'clock.  The  fog  had  thwarted 
them.  They  had  not  been  pronounced  husband 
and  wife  until  after  the  clock  in  the  church  tower 
had  struck.  It  had  struck  against  their  bare  hearts, 
they  fancied,  so  woful  was  the  sound.  They  sat 
in  the  hansom  hand  in  hand,  she  cast  down  by 
their  ill  success  and  almost  exhausted  by  the  emo- 
tional conflicts  of  the  day,  he  grimly  playing  his 
part  in  the  drama  to  its  end.  The  fog  was  now 
thicker  than  ever.  The  imp  called  Misrule  was 
lording  it  over  all  London,  even  though  his  pur- 
pose was,  as  these  lovers  thought,  merely  to  thwart 
the  too  often  equally  mischievous  will  of  his  fel- 
low-sprite Cupid. 

"  We  have  made  a  mess  of  everything,"  said  he. 

"  What  ?"  she  asked.     "  Are  we  not  married  ?" 

"  Thank  God,  yes.  You  know  I  did  not  mean 
that.  That  much  we  never  will  regret." 

The  lid  in  the  roof  of  the  hansom  lifted,  and  the 
driver  called  down :  "  It's  so  beastly  thick  here  I 
think  we're  by  the  river."  At  that  instant  the 
horse  that  drew  them  cluttered  upon  an  asphalt 
pavement,  and  a  lantern  shot  up  out  of  nowhere, 
and  was  swung  in  the  face  of  the  trembling  ani- 
mal. By  its  light  the  couple  in  the  cab  saw  a 
fence,  an  opening  in  it,  and  the  beginning  of  a 
steep  flight  of  steps. 

69 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

"  Are  you  bound  to  hell,  or  where  are  you  driv- 
ing?" a  voice  called  out. 

"  "Well,  if  it's  hell,  you  ought  to  know,"  cabby 
called  from  his  perch. 

"  You're  on  Albert  Bridge,  you  blooming  fat- 
head, that's  where  y'are.  And  in  another  minute 
your  'orse  'd  'ave  been  falling  down  sixty  odd 
steps  into  the  Thames." 

"  Oh,  Harry,  I  can't  stand  this !  I  shall  go 
mad !"  Helen  cried,  and  leaped  from  the  hansom 
to  the  roadway.  Ledyard  bade  her  stand  still, 
and  quickly  joined  her.  Paying  the  cabman,  he 
took  his  bride's  hand,  and  they  went  into  the  fog 
and  were  lost  in  it. 

"  Forgive  me  for  what  I  said  about  making  a 
mess  of  everything.  Bless  you  for  reminding  me 
that  we  are  married,"  he  said.  "  It  is  better  fort- 
une than  I  have  dreamed  of  for  many  years." 

She  only  squeezed  his  arm. 

He  led  her  towards  a  faint  lamp,  then  towards 
another,  and  so  by  degrees  across  the  first  trans- 
verse street  to  a  third  lamp.  Under  it  stood  a 
policeman,  only  dimly  visible  when  they  were 
about  to  lurch  into  him. 

"  We  must  get  to  301  quickly,  Bobby,"  said 
Ledyard. 

"I'm  afraid  our  hurry  is  over,"  Helen  whispered. 
70 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

"  Take  'old  of  my  sleeve,  then,  one  of  you,"  said 
the  good-natured  constable,  "and  we'll  grope 
for  it." 

He  led  and  they  followed,  trailing  along  in  a 
crablike  way,  the  policeman  passing  his  disengaged 
hand  along  the  house  railings,  and  at  every  third 
or  fourth  opening  lighting  a  match  and  dodging 
up  the  steps  to  read  the  number  of  the  house. 
On  their  way  they  ran  into  many  persons,  and 
one,  an  old  woman  of  respectable  appearance, 
clung  to  the  constable  and  would  not  be  shaken 
off. 

"  Please  take  me  with  you.  No  matter  where 
you  are  going,  let  me  be  with  you,"  she  moaned. 
"  I  am  lost,  and  I  am  so  frightened." 

"  Stand  there,"  said  the  policeman,  leading  her 
into  the  space  before  a  flight  of  steps,  "and  I'll 
be  back  directly  and  take  care  of  you." 

"  'Ere's  yer  'ouse,"  he  said,  presently,  and,  ac- 
cepting a  fee  of  a  few  pence  with  hearty  thanks, 
he  left  them. 

Ledyard  rang  the  bell,  and  when  the  door  opened 
a  great  wall  of  fog  rolled  in  and  all  but  blotted 
out  the  maid  in  an  instant. 

"  Shut  that  door,  quickly,"  was  shouted  in  a 
voice  at  which  Helen  shuddered  as  she  recognized 
it  as  her  aunt's.  "  Do  you  want  the  fog  in-doors 

71 


WHEN    THE    CLOUDS    FELL    DOWN 

as  well  as  out  ?  It's  you,  is  it,  Helen  ?  Tou  are 
the  first  to  come,  except  the  servants." 

"  Thank  Heaven,  then,  we  have  not  made  a  mess 
of  anything !"  Ledyard  muttered. 

."  Who's  with  you  2"  the  old  lady  asked. 

"  Mr.  Ledyard  brought  me  here,  aunt." 

"  Humph !  Well,  you've  done  more  than  all  the 
rest.  Mr.  Staple  has  telegraphed  that  he  is  safe  in 
town,  so  prepare  to  welcome  him  at  any  moment." 

The  voice  came  nearer,  accompanied  by  the 
heavy  footsteps  of  the  speaker,  and  presently  the 
very  stout,  extremely  hard  and  sour  faced  lady 
had  reached  the  hall  floor  and  had  bowed  stiffly 
to  Mr.  Ledyard. 

"  Bid  Mr.  Ledyard  good-night,  Helen,"  she  said. 
"  He  will  have  no  interest  in  the  family  matters 
which  we  are  to  discuss  when  the  others  arrive." 

"  I  was  hoping  he  would  stay,  dear  aunt,"  Helen 
said,  meekly. 

"  Stay  ?  Child,  you  don't  understand  these 
things,"  said  her  aunt.  "  Mr.  Ledyard  must  see 
the  impropriety  of  his  remaining." 

"  It  shall  be  entirely  as  Mrs.  Ledyard  says, 
madam,"  Harry  replied,  mischievously. 

"  As  Mrs.  Ledyard  says  ?"  the  old  lady  echoed. 
"  Your  mother — do  you  mean  ?" 

"  No,  aunt ;  he  means  me.    I'm  Mrs.  Ledyard." 

72 


A  DANDY  AT  HIS  BEST 

EVERY  man  I  had  seen  for  weeks  was  beard- 
ed, and  wore  a  fez  of  fur,  and  carried  a  big 
and  murderous  knife  with  a  handle  beauti- 
fied by  inlaid  enamel  or  carved  silver.  Now  I  had 
come  to  a  railway  station  in  the  same  part  of  the 
Caucasus,  and  here  I  saw  only  the  same  men  and 
a  few  Russians  with  blouses  outside  their  trousers, 
and  trousers  inside  their  boots,  or  else  in  flat  caps 
and  colored  uniforms.  Yet,  as  I  sipped  my  lemon- 
ade in  the  little  hotel  dining-room,  there  came  in 
as  smart  a  dandy  as  ever  you  saw  on  Madison 
Square  or  Piccadilly.  He  was  tall  and  straight 
and  slender,  about  thirty-five,  and  with  the  face  of 
a  soldier.  His  clothes  fitted  him  like  the  enamel 
on  a  bicycle.  He  wore  a  spick-and-span  new 
lounging  suit  of  mixed  gray  wool,  a  Derby — or 
bowler — hat  of  brown  felt,  new  tan-colored  gloves, 
and  boots  that  shone  like  two  mirrors.  His  high 
collar,  his  scarf,  and  the  tiny  jewel  which  kept  it 

73 


A    DANDY    AT    HIS    BEST 

in  shape  were  all  of  the  correct  fashion,  and  as 
neat  as  new  pins. 

He  called  up  a  tousle-haired  Russian  waiter,  who 
moved  as  if  he  was  made  of  wood,  and  who  had 
such  an  affinity  for  that  material  that  he  fell  over 
every  table-leg  and  chair  in  the  room. 

"•  Toast  and — er — two  soft-boiled  eggs  and — er 
— coffee,"  said  the  dandy,  "  and  look  sharp  with 
them." 

"  Coffee,"  the  wooden-head  repeated,  and  went 
away.  And  coffee  was  all  he  brought  back,  of 
course,  for  he  had  understood  no  other  word  of 
the  order. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  I.  "  No  one  here 
speaks  English.  He  only  understood  the  word 
*  coffee.' " 

"  This  is  the  tenth  time  that  I  have  been  here," 
said  the  Englishman,  "  and  yet  they  know  no  more 
English  than  when  I  first  came  here,  ten  years 
ago.  If  they  think  I'm  any  further  along  with 
their  absurd  lingo,  they  are  mistaken.  If  I  knew  it 
as  well  as  they  do,  I  would  not  speak  a  word  of  it." 

By  means  of  equal  large  proportions  of  patience 
and  pantomime  he  got  his  breakfast.  Then  he 
proposed  a  walk.  An  American  would  have  pro- 
posed other  things,  but  an  Englishman  always  pro- 
poses a  walk. 

74 


A    DANDY    AT    HIS    BEST 

" Tourist?"  Tasked. 

"  Not  exactly,"  said  he.  "  I  go  in  for  shooting 
— a  little — in  a  way,  I  mean  to  say.  Odd  thing 
about  it  is  that  I  always  seem  to  start  from  here, 
no  matter  where  I'm  shooting.  I  like  the  Black 
Sea  country,  you  know — Sebastopol,  Yalta,  Kertch, 
Batoum,  Tiflis — the  only  unspoiled  corner  of  Eu- 
rope, isn't  it  ?  So  I  start  here  and  go  on  to  Per- 
sia, Siberia,  China,  or  wherever  I  need  to  go  for 
special  sorts  of  shooting;  not  shooting,  exactly, 
either.  I  go  in  more  for  collecting.  Have  you 
come  for  bear?  No?  Ibex?  No?" 

"  I  am  a  civil  engineer — an  American — at  work 
in  the  mountains,"  said  I,  "  but  there  is  a  rising 
of  the  people,  and  I  am  ordered  back  here  for 
safety." 

"  What  idiots  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Elliott — that  was 
the  name  of  this  English  dandy.  "  So  that  is  it,  is 
it  ?  "Why  couldn't  the  fools  say  so  ?  Here  I  have 
been  for  five  days,  waiting  on  the  Russian  officials, 
and  not  getting  on  a  bit.  I  have  wired  to  Peters- 
burg and  London,  and  the  English  ambassador  re- 
plies to-day  that  I  must  abandon  my  trip,  for  rea- 
sons he  cannot  explain.  But  you  have  explained  it 
— a  rising  in  the  mountains.  How  absurdly  Rus- 
sian all  this  is!  They  don't  want  me  to  know 
about  their  contemptible  squabbles.  They  think 

75 


A    DANDY    AT    HIS    BEST 

because  I  am  English  I  must  be  a  spy.  They  do 
not  believe  I  am  a  hunter.  It  is  so  absurd — that 
an  Englishman  with  a  gun  should  be  taken  for  a 
statesman  in  disguise." 

"  This  is  really  a  serious  trouble,"  I  said.  "  The 
people  of  half  a  dozen  villages  have  turned  brig- 
ands, and  because  two  leaders  have  been  caught 
and  sent  to  Tiflis  the  others  have  stolen  the  son  of 
the  old  major  in  command  here  and  insist  that 
their  companions  must  be  exchanged  for  the  boy. 
There  has  been  fighting,  and  some  soldiers  have 
been  killed.  Troops  have  been  sent  for,  and  the 
villages  are  to  be  burned — the  people  exterminated, 
also,  I  suspect,  if  they  continue  to  resist." 

"My  word!"  said  Elliott.  "Then  my  mind's 
made  up.  If  the  Russians  don't  control  the  moun- 
tains, they've  no  right  to  forbid  my  hunting  there. 
I  shall  go  ahead  without  their  leave.  "Would  you 
mind  stepping  back  to  the  hotel  with  me?  I'll 
order  my  boy  to  get  ready  at  once." 

"  You'll  be  killed,"  said  I. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Elliott.  "  I  merely 
wish  to  get  a  specimen  of  a  certain  animal,  and 
what  have  Russian  politics  to  do  with  that  ?  It's 
an  animal  precisely  like  your  mountain-goat  in 
America,  but  it  has  white  horns  instead  of 
black,  and  they  are  spiral  in  shape.  Not  one  ex- 

76 


A    DANDY    AT    HIS    BEST 

ists  in  any  zoo  or  museum,  and  I  have  pledged 
myself  to  get  one  for  my  little  collection  at 
home." 

"  You'll  have  to  get  your  goat  with  a  brigade 
of  Russian  infantry,"  I  remarked. 

"As  I  look  at  it,"  said  the  Englishman,  "the 
only  trouble  will  be  in  bringing  back  this  Russian 
major's  son." 

"  Are  you  going  to  try  that  ?" 

"  It  will  be  pleasanter  afterwards  if  I  bring  him 
back,"  Mr.  Elliott  answered.  "  Otherwise  I  could 
not  very  well  come  back  myself — having  been  for- 
bidden to  go.  If  I  don't  get  the  boy,  you  see,  I 
shall  have  to  push  on  to  the  Persian  Gulf,  and  in 
that  case  I'd  go  right  on  around  the  world  so  as 
to  shoot  for  a  few  days  in  the  Olympian  Range  in 
your  State  of  Washington,  where  there  is  a  sheep 
of  the  chamois  sort  of  which  no  specimens  have 
reached  England. 

"  Oh  yes,"  he  added,  after  a  pause,  "  it's  a  nui- 
sance, but  I'll  have  to  get  that  little  beggar,  because 
I  shall  be  obliged  to  come  back  for  my  kit.  I  can't 
take  it  with  me.  I  never  could  get  across  that 
bare  hill  in  front  of  the  town  with  my  five  pony- 
loads  of  luggage  and  camp  things  without  being 
stopped.  I  must  simply  take  one  man,  and  appear 
to  be  off  for  a  ride." 

77 


A    DANDY    AT    HIS    BEST 

"  You  are  planning  suicide,"  said  I.  "  Those 
mountaineers  will  kill  you." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  you  don't  know  them,"  said 
Elliott.  "  What  are  they  to  Kurds,  or  Mongols, 
or  Afghans,  or  such  Chinese  as  I  knocked  about 
among  for  months  in  western  Sze-chuen  ?  Kill 
me  ?  They  won't  want  to  bother  a  poor  devil  of 
a  hunter  like  me.  Why,  in  ten  years  of  hunting 
and  travel  on  all  the  mountains  and  plains  of  Asia 
I  have  only  once  or  twice  met  with  incivility.  I 
did  have  a  little  misadventure  when  I  went  through 
a  part  of  western  China  for  certain  rare  forms  of 
the  pheasant.  Three  bands  in  succession  kept  on 
peppering  at  me  for  days— and  forcing  me  to  pepper 
them  back,  I  may  say.  I  remember  that  because 
I  did  not  get  my  morning  tub  or  a  change  into 
pajamas  at  night  for  more  than  a  week ;  that  was 
the  worst  of  it." 

"  I'll  go  with  you  on  this  trip,"  said  I.  "  Come 
along." 

"  Will  you  ?"  Elliott  inquired,  while  his  face  took 
on  a  very  troubled  expression.  "  Ton  my  word,  it's 
awf  ully  good  of  you  to  propose  it,  don't  you  know ; 
only  I  wouldn't,  really,  you  know,  if  I  were  3Tou." 

"  I  can't  force  myself  upon  you,"  I  said.  "  I 
can  only  ask  you  to  let  me  go.  If  you  won't,  I'll 
toddle  along  an  hour  behind  you." 

78 


A    DANDY    AT    HIS    BEST 

"  Oh,  I  say ;  really,  now — it's  quite  too  absurd," 
said  Elliott.  "  If  I  get  killed,  it's  in  the  interest 
of  science  and  that  sort  of  thing,  but  if  you're 
hurt,  that  would  be  a  horse  of  another  color, 
wouldn't  it  ?" 

"  I  thought  there  was  no  danger,"  said  I. 

"  Well — er — on  my  word,  you  Americans  are  so 
sudden  and  unaccountable.  Why  should  you  want 
to  take  such  a  risk?  I've  a  reason  for  it  myself. 
There's  a  goat  that's  only  to  be  found  on  that 
mountain  in  all  the  world,  and — " 

"  All  right,"  said  I.     "  I'll  go  with  you." 

"  Then  I  won't  take  my  boy,"  said  the  English- 
man. "Three  might  seem  a  formidable  force, 
mightn't  it?  Just  you  and  I  will  go,  and  the 
best  course  is  to  go  at  once." 

In  ten  minutes  we  were  on  horseback.  In  thirty 
minutes  we  were  two  brown  specks  dropping  over 
the  crest  of  the  first  foot-hill,  leaving  the  town  be- 
hind us,  and  facing  the  gate  to  the  country  of  the 
outlaws — a  road  at  the  bottom  of  a  narrow  valley, 
whose  precipitous  grassy  sides  afforded  the  moun- 
tain folk  every  chance  at  us,  and  us  no  chance  of 
escape  from  them. 

"What's  in  that  big  roll  behind  your  saddle?" 
I  asked. 

"  I've  only  brought  my  Wolseley  sleeping-bag," 
79 


A    DANDY    AT    HIS    BEST 

Elliott  said,  "and  a  suit  of  clothes  for  a  change, 
and  my  pajamas,  and  mackintosh,  and  slippers, 
razors,  and  towels." 

"  One  would  think  you  were  invited  out  for 
a  week  at  a  country-house,"  said  I,  who  had 
brought  literally  nothing  except  a  little  quinine 
and  witch-hazel,  a  tooth  -  brush  and  a  cake  of 
soap. 

"I  like  to  have  plenty  of  changes,"  said  he, 
"but  of  course  it's  impossible  this  time.  I've 
been  obliged  once  or  twice  to  sleep  in  my  clothes, 
and  I  know  you'll  think  it's  absurd,  but  I  noticed 
I  shot  badly  next  day  each  time  it  happened.  I 
missed  a  black  leopard  in  India  once  for  the  want 
of  my  tub  that  morning.  Now  I  make  it  a  rule 
to  bathe  if  I  can  only  go  through  the  motions 
with  a  quart  of  water." 

"No  matter  where  an  Englishman  is,"  said  I, 
"in  the  Sudan  or  at  the  north  pole,  he  still  lives 
as  he  used  to  live  in  England." 

"  It  is  very  remarkable  that  every  one  should  be 
always  charging  an  Englishman  with  his  nation- 
ality," said  Elliott. 

"  It  is  the  only  nationality  that  is  worn  like  a 
coat  of  mail,"  said  I. 

"  I  dare  say  that's  very  clever,"  said  he.  "  You 
Americans  always  say  such  clever  things.  But, 

80 


A    DANDY    AT    HIS    BEST 

hello  !  Here  are  these  mountain  beggars.  Now 
we  shall  see  something." 

We  saw  something  indeed.  The  path  widened 
out  into  a  bowl-like  valley,  whose  broad  middle 
was  the  dried-up  bed  of  a  stream.  On  one  side, 
the  mountain  sent  up  a  sheer  wall  of  rock ;  on  the 
other  side,  an  easy  slope  was  dotted  with  small 
stone  cabins,  roofed  with  poles  and  thatching. 
And  all  were  dominated  by  a  crumbling  tower  of 
refuge,  which  told  of  constant  attack  and  defence 
and  turbulent  existence.  In  the  road  and  on  the 
dried-up  stream -bed  were  two  hundred  men  on 
horses,  with  guns,  whirling  and  curving  round 
and  round  in  contrary  directions.  Now  and  then 
a  man  or  two,  or  half  a  dozen,  rode  out  towards  us, 
fired  their  guns  at  the  sky,  and  rode  back  again. 
Their  appearance  and  behavior  were  both  mur- 
derous. 

"  What  a  fuss  the  silly  beggars  are  making !" 
said  my  English  friend,  as  he  cantered  forward. 

"  What  are  we  going  to  do?"  I  asked. 

"  Keep  on,  straight  ahead,  barehanded,"  said  he. 
"The  one  thing  we  mustn't  do  is  to  touch  our 
guns.  When  we  get  to  them,  we  will  explain  our 
business,  and  hire  some  of  them  to  hunt  with  us." 

His  coolness  and  nerve  were  perfect.  He  rode 
as  if  he  were  enjoying  a  morning  canter  in  Hyde 

P  81 


A    DANDY    AT    HIS    BEST 

Park.  "  How  did  you  get  your  boots  so  dusty  ?" 
he  asked.  His  shone  like  polished  ebony. 

The  mountain  men  continued  to  make  fierce 
dashes  at  us,  in  larger  parties  noAv,  with  a  greater 
waste  of  gunpowder.  "  We  will  ride  straight  into 
the  crowd  and  look  for  the  chap  in  command," 
said  Elliott.  We  rode  on,  and  in  a  minute  it  was 
evident  that  the  next  sally  of  the  mountaineers 
must  bring  them  and  us  together.  Out  rode  half 
a  dozen  men,  spurring  their  horses  and  bouncing 
almost  out  of  their  saddles  to  make  themselves  ap- 
pear the  more  eager  and  terrible.  They  met  us  and 
rode  past  us,  so  that  we  were  between  them  and 
the  main  body.  Then  another  half-dozen  rushed 
forward,  and  we  were  seized  and  pulled  from  our 
saddles  before  we  suspected  what  their  plan  was. 

"  Make  no  resistance,"  said  Elliott ;  "  everything 
depends  on  our  calmness." 

As  he  spoke  I  saw  his  right  arm  shoot  out,  and 
one  of  his  assailants  was  flung  heavily  on  his  back. 
The  man  had  put  his  hands  on  Elliott's  mouth, 
which  proved  more  than  he  would  suffer.  Unen- 
cumbered, the  Englishman  strode  among  our  cap- 
tors until  he  saw  a  kingly  but  fierce-looking,  gray- 
bearded  man.  Him  he  saluted  in  a  military  way, 
extending  his  right  hand  in  European  fashion. 
But  the  chief  was  not  to  be  dissuaded  from  his 

82 


A    DANDY    AT    HIS    BEST 

plan  of  action.  "We  were  both  overpowered,  our 
guns  were  taken,  we  were  put  on  our  horses,  and 
with  our  hands  tied  behind  us  we  were  led  on  and 
on  up  the  mountain,  without  stopping  until  long 
after  nightfall. 

We  were  taken  to  separate  houses,  and  were  lost 
to  each  other ;  but  I,  who  knew  a  little  Russian, 
learned  a  day  or  two  later  that  our  captors  had 
sent  to  the  town  to  discover  what  they  could  about 
us,  and,  in  consequence,  the  Englishman  was  re- 
leased and  had  gone,  with  two  of  the  villagers,  in 
search  of  the  goat  he  was  so  bent  upon  getting. 
I  was  declared  to  be  in  the  pay  of  the  Russians, 
and,  presumably,  a  Eussian  spy.  Like  the  little 
son  of  the  Russian  major,  I  was  to  be  offered  in 
exchange  for  the  captured  brigands.  My  experi- 
ence as  a  prisoner  is  of  no  especial  interest.  Ex- 
cept at  meal-times,  I  was  kept  tied,  but  in  no  other 
way  was  I  ill-treated. 

Days  came  and  went,  and  were  taken  up  with 
the  same  routine  of  coarse  feeding  and  of  the 
agony  which  the  ropes  brought  to  my  arms.  The 
only  variation  came  when  I  was  allowed  to  walk 
in  a  muddy,  walled  court  behind  the  cabin.  One 
night  I  could  not  sleep  because  of  the  strumming 
on  a  drum,  the  yelling,  and  the  firing  of  guns 
that  went  on  in  the  neighborhood.  I  imagined 

83 


A    DANDY    AT    HIS    BEST 

that  the  Eussians  were  expected,  and  that  the 
mountaineers  were  nerving  themselves  for  a  fight. 
As  I  lay  wondering  what  was  to  be  the  outcome 
for  me,  I  felt  a  hand  on  my  shoulder.  A  match 
was  struck,  and  I  saw  the  English  hunter  bend-f 
ing  over  me. 

"Hello!"  I  whispered.     "Is  that  you?" 

"  Speak  loud  as  you  like,"  said  he.  "  I've  got 
that  goat  —  magnificent  specimen.  They're  all 
celebrating  my  return.  I  got  my  men  to  bring 
up  two  gallons  of  vodki.  They  think  I've  gone 
to  bed.  Now  I  must  go  back,  or  I'll  be  missed. 
Roll  over  and  let  me  cut  your  hands  free ;  there, 
that's  better,  isn't  it?  Now  listen.  In  one  hour 
— as  near  as  you  can  figure — walk  out,  climb  the 
wall  at  the  back,  and  go  straight  up  the  moun- 
tain until  you  are  well  out  of  hearing.  Go  at 
least  a  mile,  and  wait  until  you  hear  this  call." 
(He  imitated  the  cluck  of  some  wild  bird.)  "  An- 
swer it ;  I'll  join  you,  and  we  shall  have  hours' 
start  of  every  one." 

"  You're  a  brick,"  said  I.  "  Have  you  got  the 
Russian  boy?" 

"  It's  hard  luck,"  said  he,  "  but  I  haven't  even 
found  out  where  they're  keeping  him." 

"He's  right  over  our  heads  in  this  shanty,  or 
I  miss  my  guess,"  I  said.  "  I'll  bring  him  along." 

84 


A  .DANDY    AT    HIS    BEST 

"  Splendid !"  said  Elliott ;  "  then  I  can  go  back 
to  the  village,  in  touch  with  my  kit  once  more. 
I've  only  one  change  with  me,  and  the  prospect 
seemed  so  awful  that,  really,  I've  fancied  I  could 
feel  my  nerve  going." 

As  soon  as  Elliott  disappeared  I  got  up  and 
lighted  a  match  to  search,  first  of  all,  for  the  re- 
volver which  had  been  taken  from  me.  It  was 
not  on  the  ground-floor,  so  I  climbed  the  ladder- 
like  stairs  to  the  upper  story.  There,  by  the  first 
flash  of  a  second  match,  I  saw  my  rifle  in  a  cor- 
ner, my  revolver  and  belt  beside  it,  and  the  Bus- 
sian  boy — or,  rather,  his  shock  head  of  yellow 
hair — at  the  top  of  a  pallet  by  my  feet.  I  did  not 
touch  my  weapons  or  awaken  the  lad,  but  crept 
back  to  my  own  shake-down  of  straw  with  its 
blanket  covering,  and  began  to  count  the  minutes 
by  numbering  each  second  with  a  slowness  and 
regularity  which  taxed  my  patience  more,  per- 
haps, than  any  feat  I  ever  performed  in  my  life. 

In  that  way  I  had  counted  1760,  when  two  of 
my  guards  came  to  look  at  me,  and,  in  fact,  to 
look  the  whole  house  over.  In  opening  the  door 
one  fell  in  upon  his  knees.  In  climbing  to  the 
second  story,  the  other  one  suffered  such  a  heavy 
fall,  and  from  such  a  height,  that  I  feared  he 
was  hurt  and  would  have  to  remain  with  me.  I 

85 


A    DANDY    AT    HIS    BEST 

pretended  to  sleep  through  all  the  racket,  and, 
presently,  after  an  argument  whether  they  should 
stay  or  go  back  to  their  hilarious  companions, 
the  hullabaloo  outside  allured  them,  and  they  left 
me  once  again.  Instantly  I  ran  to  the  upper  room 
and  took  my  weapons  and  woke  the  boy.  The 
latter  proved  a  trying  task,  for  he  slept  as  chil- 
dren do,  and  kept  me  shaking  him  and  whisper- 
ing to  him  for  at  least  a  couple  of  minutes. 
When  he  finally  did  wake  up  he  began  to  light 
me.  I  tried  to  explain  that  I  was  a  friend  and 
was  rescuing  him,  but  my  Russian  was  not  suffi- 
cient. He  kicked  and  beat  me,  and  at  last  he 
screamed.  There  was  nothing  else  to  do,  so  I 
gagged  him  with  a  handkerchief,  and  at  last, 
Heaven  knows  how,  got  him,  kicking  and  strug- 
gling, over  the  wall. 

"With  him  in  my  arms,  I  climbed  the  steep  moun- 
tain-side in  the  pitch  black  of  the  night,  making 
no  noise,  and  never  resting  until  I  had  put  the  vil- 
lage far  behind  us.  Then,  pulling  the  boy  down 
beside  me,  I  sat  between  two  great  trees  and  waited 
to  hear  the  "cluck"  of  my  friend.  What  was  it 
that  I  did  hear?  Voices!  calls! — and  coming 
nearer  and  nearer.  There  was  no  doubt  about  it. 
The  village  was  aroused  and  afoot.  Our  flight 
was  discovered.  Presently  I  heard  two  men  crash- 

86 


THE   FIRST   MAN   CARRIED  A   TORCH  " 


A    DANDY    AT    HIS    BEST 

ing  towards  me,  and  then  I  saw  the  flashing  of  a 
torch  which  one  was  carrying.  Thank  Heaven! 
one  of  them  was  Elliott.  I  distinguished  his  voice 
and  then  his  words — evidently  addressed  to  me : 
"  Run  farther ;  don't  answer ;  climb  higher  up." 

I  picked  the  boy  up,  though  he  had  apparently 
come  to  his  senses  and  struggled  no  longer.  One 
pair  of  feet,  I  thought,  would  make  less  noise  than 
two.  I  ran  till,  quite  out  of  breath,  I  fell  on  my 
knees  beside  some  bushes.  I  discovered  that  only 
this  man,  whom  Elliott  was  pretending  to  assist, 
was  on  my  trail.  The  voices  of  all  the  others 
were  fading  away.  I  waited  with  my  rifle  cocked, 
but  when  the  torch  came  quite  close  it  threw  noth- 
ing but  the  shadow  of  the  bush  upon  the  boy  and 
me.  Elliott  was  a  yard  behind  the  torch-bearer. 

"  Cluck !"  I  made  the  signal,  reckless  of  conse- 
quences. 

Then  I  saw  a  strange  thing.  The  Englishman 
threw  both  hands  around  the  man  in  front  of  him, 
and,  putting  a  knee  against  the  man's  back,  pulled 
him  over. 

"  Now,"  he  whispered  to  me,  "  tell  this  man  in 
Russian  to  keep  on  straight  ahead  of  both  of  us, 
and  that  we  will  kill  him  like  a  fly  if  he  tries  to 
turn  back  or  utters  a  cry." 

I  whispered  this  in  the  mountaineer's  ear,  and 
87 


A    DANDY    AT    HIS    BEST 

at  the  same  time  took  away  his  fearful-looking 
knife  and  probably  useless  pistol.  "  Tell  him 
'  straight  ahead  to  the  path  which  leads  across  the 
mountain' — say  that;  that's  right.  A  goat  can 
scarcely  descend  that  path,  but  it's  the  only  way 
to  avoid  houses  and  people.  Now,  then,  on  like 
mad." 

Elliott  took  the  torch  and  pushed  the  half-tipsy 
mountaineer,  who  went  stumbling  and  crashing 
through  the  bush  like  a  wounded  bear.  I  pulled 
the  boy  along  by  one  hand.  At  last  we  came  to 
a  hollow  between  the  main  bulk  of  the  mountain 
and  a  corner  or  shoulder.  Here,  on  level  ground, 
we  pushed  swiftly  ahead,  knowing  that  we  had 
found  the  trail. 

"  "We're  all  right  now,"  said  I. 

"  "We  may  ~be  all  right,  but  let  us  thank  fortune 
we  can't  see  how  disreputable  we  look"  said  El- 
liott, who,  I  truly  believe,  was  wretched  for  fear 
he  looked  untidy. 

"We  spoke  with  our  natural  voices,  and  lo !  we 
were  hailed  in  the  mountain  tongue  by  some  one 
ahead  of  us.  We  strode  forward,  and  began  to 
see  the  gleam  of  another  torch.  A  second  search- 
er, leading  all  the  rest,  was  waiting  for  us.  El- 
liott thrust  his  torch  into  the  mountaineer's  hand, 
and  he  and  I,  with  our  rifles  ready  for  use,  walked 

88 


A    DAXDY    AT    HIS    BEST 

in  single  file  behind  our  prisoner,  almost  hidden 
by  him.  Presently  we  saw  the  new  disturber  of 
our  plans  seated  on  a  log,  tired  and  breathless. 

"  Cover  him  as  I  call,"  said  I,  and  I  shouted, 
''  Don't  move,  or  you — " 

Instantly  we  stepped  on  either  side  of  our  torch- 
bearer,  with  our  rifles  at  the  astonished  man's 
head.  He  threw  down  his  knife  and  pistol,  and 
uttered  no  protest  when  I  gave  him  orders  to  run 
ahead  with  the  other  man,  on  pain  of  death.  El- 
liott kept  both  prisoners  moving,  and  I  halted  and 
stuck  one  of  the  torches  in  the  ground  while  I 
caparisoned  the  Russian  boy  with  the  daggers  and 
pistols  we  had  taken  from  our  prisoners.  I  re- 
moved my  handkerchief  from  the  boy's  mouth, 
and  laughed.  I  saw  that  I  had  made  him  look  the 
most  bloodthirsty  child  in  all  the  world.  "  Now, 
come,"  said  I ;  "  we  must  catch  up  to  the  others." 

I  stooped  to  pick  up  my  torch,  and  felt  some- 
thing rip  my  coat  sleeve  and  run  warm  down  the 
same  arm.  I  turned  just  as  the  boy  was  pulling 
back  a  dagger  with  which  he  had  stabbed  me. 
He  leaped  away,  jerked  out  a  pistol,  and  would 
have  shot  me  had  I  not  been  too  quick  for  him. 
I  pinioned  both  his  hands  and  began  to  reason 
with  him  in  the  best  flow  of  Russian  that  ever 
came  to  my  aid. 

89 


A    DANDY    AT    HIS    BEST 

"  Don't  talk  Russian  to  me,"  said  the  little  fire- 
brand. "  I  kill  Russians." 

What  a  discovery !  I  had  run  away  with  the 
wrong  boy ! 

I  threw  his  weapons  into  the  brush  and  pushed 
him  ahead,  with  my  rifle  aimed  at  him  as  a  warn- 
ing. He  tried  to  dodge  past  me  and  run  back  to 
the  village.  He  was  not  afraid  to  die,  as  his 
elders  were.  I  was  obliged  to  gag  him  again 
and  pick  him  up  in  my  arms  and  run  with, 
him. 

How  merrily  my  English  friend  laughed  when 
he  heard  of  my  discovery  and  of  all  that  had  hap- 
pened !  I  told  him  while  he  bandaged  up  the 
ugly  wound  in  my  arm  and  while,  at  the  same 
time,  I  covered  our  prisoners  with  my  gun  after 
making  them  sit  on  the  ground. 

"Keep  them  sitting  like  that,  with  one  torch 
burning  at  a  time,"  said  Elliott.  "  You  can  con- 
trol them  until  I  get  back — in  an  hour,  or,  at  the 
outside,  two  hours." 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Back  to  get  the  Russian  boy,"  said  he.  "  My 
dear  old  chap,  don't  make  a  fuss.  You  see  how 
it  is.  I  might  have  to  travel  for  weeks  without 
fresh  clothes  if  I  have  to  run  away  from  my  kit. 
I'm  getting  positively  beggarly,  you  know — and, 

90 


A    DANDY    AT    HIS    BEST 

really,  my  nerve  all  goes  when  I  feel  a  bit  beg- 
garly." 

Of  course  I  did  not  believe  a  word  of  his  plea 
for  fresh  apparel.  I  thought  he  saw  a  chance  for 
fresh  adventure,  which  was  more  to  my  taste. 
We  put  my  prisoners  down  on  their  stomachs, 
head  to  feet,  and  all  their  heads  away  from  me, 
and  then  off  he  went  on  his  desperate  errand.  It 
seemed  a  long  time  before  any  sounds  except  those 
natural  to  the  forest  disturbed  me,  but  at  last  I 
heard  the  tramp  of  many  feet.  I  had  little  doubt, 
then,  that  my  friend  had  been  captured,  and  the 
villagers  were  coming  after  me  in  a  body.  But 
of  this  I  could  not  be  sure,  and  in  the  uncertainty 
I  got  well  in  front  of  my  prisoners,  ready  to  make 
a  dash  at  the  last  moment. 

"  Elliott !"  I  shouted.    «  Elliott !" 

"  Eight !"  he  called  back. 

The  sound  of  tramping  men  grew  nearer  and 
louder,  and  presently  the  first  man  came  in  sight 
in  the  light  of  his  own  torch.  It  was  not  my 
friend,  nor  was  the  next  man  he,  nor  the  next,  nor 
the  next.  At  last  he  did  appear,  fifth  in  the  proces- 
sion, leading  by  one  hand  a  bright -eyed,  gentle 
boy.  The  first  four  men  were  tied,  each  to  the 
other,  by  their  hands.  He  had  one  more  pris- 
oner than  I.  On  the  back  of  one  he  had  tied  his 

91 


A    DANDY    AT    HIS    BEST 

goat's  head  and  skin  in  a  neat  pack  like  a  knap- 
sack. 

"  "Why  did  you  leave  the  houses  behind  ?"  I 
asked.  "  You  appear  to  have  brought  all  the  rest 
of  the  village." 

He  made  no  reply  for  a  long  while.  Then  he 
suddenly  burst  out  laughing. 

"  Ha !  ha !  That's  awfully  clever,"  said  he. 
"  How  deucedly  bright  you  Americans  are !  No- 
body but  an  American  would  have  thought  of 
saying  that  about  the  houses." 

"  But  do  you  mean  to  take  all  these  men  and 
deliver  them  to  the  authorities  ?"  I  asked. 

"  No,"  he  replied.  "  Let  Russia  catch  her  own 
prisoners.  I  propose  we  set  them  free,  one  at  a 
time,  as  we  near  the  valley.  Then,  while  they 
sweat  up  this  fearful  mountain,  we  can  flag  a  train 
and  be  off." 

That  was  precisely  what  we  did. 

When  we  were  alone  I  noticed  that  something 
worried  him.  Presently  he  relieved  his  mind. 

"  I'm  troubled  by  what  you  said  about  my  leav- 
ing the  houses  behind,"  he  remarked,  "  for,  really, 
I  don't  think  I  did  so  badly.  I  brought  away  all 
except  two  men  who  had  gone  off  down  the  road 
after  you.  I  couldn't  go  after  them,  could  I  ?  I 
didn't  really  want  them,  you  know." 

92 


A    DANDY    AT    HIS    BEST 

"  That  was  all  a  joke  about  the  houses,"  I  said. 
"  I  think  you  did  wonders." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  he, "  for 
two  of  them  were  so  fast  asleep  I  did  not  wake 
them  even  when  I  took  their  weapons  away  and 
tied  them  up.  The  nastiest  job  I  had  was  in 
changing  my  clothes." 

"  You  changed  your  clothes  ?"  I  asked. 

"  "Well,  yes ;  you  see,  I  thought  I'd  have  more 
nerve — a  bit  steadier,  you  know — if  I  felt  fresh. 
But  the  trouble  was  that  I  did  not  make  up  my 
mind  to  do  it  until  I  had  shown  myself  in  my  true 
colors  to  two  wide-awake  men  who  were  guard- 
ing the  boy.  Then  I  was  forced  to  bring  them 
into  my  hut,  and  stand  them  with  their  faces  to 
the  wall  while  I  had  a  good  wash  and  a  complete 
change.  That  might  have  been  a  bit  nasty, 
mightn't  it  —  keeping  two  mutinous  beggars  in 
order  under  those  circumstances,  especially,  you 
know,  if  one  happened  to  turn  his  head  just  as  I 
was  putting  on  my  shirt  ?" 


THE  SAD  FATE  OF  A  NEW 
WOMAN 

IT  was  midsummer  in  New  York  City,  and  they 
were  talking  of  a  holiday  journey.  They 
were  two  young  brokers — Burville,  the  draw- 
ing-room hero,  and  Marlin,  the  bookworm  and 
recluse. 

"  I  want  you  to  come  to  Jack  Hibberd's  as  much 
as  ever,"  said  Marlin,  "  and  he  urges  me  to  bring 
you — but  I'm  not  so  sure  you'll  like  it,  you  see." 

"  "Why  ?  Isn't  it  still  a  cabin  in  the  heart  of  the 
forest — '  the  core  of  the  kingdom  of  rest,'  as  you 
called  it  when  you  came  back  from  there  last 
year?" 

"  But  Jack  has  married,  and  writes  me  that  his 
wife  is  there." 

"  I  like  that  all  the  better ;  much  better.  I  long 
ago  tired  of  men  by  themselves.  They  are  rude 
and  coarse,  and — well,  I  much  prefer  them  with 
women  about.  "Whom  has  he  married  2" 

"  Why,  a  Miss  Mildred  Starke.  Maybe  you 
94 


THE    SAD    FATE    OF    A    NEW    WOMAN 

know  her ;  she's  a  New-Yorker,  and  I  used  to  see 
her  name  in  the  society  news." 

"  The  deuce  you  say.  But,  no ;  Miss  Starke, 
whose  name  was  so  often  published,  has  not  mar- 
ried ;  it  is  impossible !" 

"  Yes,  it  is  she.  They  met  in  Chicago.  He 
lives  there,  and  she  was  there  last  year  attending 
a  convention  of  some  sort.  Quite  a  love-match, 
they  say." 

"  Love-fiddlestick !  Old  man,  if  you  knew  any- 
thing— about  society  people,  I  mean — you  would 
not  couple  love  and  Mildred  Starke  in  one  sen- 
tence. She  was  at  a  Chicago  convention  last  year, 
and  we  did  hear  that  some  man  was  showing  her 
a  great  deal  of  attention — I  remember  that,  and 
how  we  all  laughed  at  the  idea.  But  married — 
well,  she'd  be  the  one  to  laugh  at  that ;  and  even 
if  it  were  possible,  it  would  not  be  for  love.  Man 
alive,  the  new  woman  believes  in  love  as  much  as 
you  do  in  small-pox — as  a  disease — and  if  there 
ever  was  a  new  womany  new  woman  it  was 
Mildred." 

"  Tell  me  about  her,"  said  Marlin.  "  An  elocu- 
tionist, wasn't  she  ?" 

"  She  gave  readings  and  recitations  only  to  prove 
the  capacity  of  woman  for  independence.  Her 
mother  is  very  rich — the  widow  of  old  Brummel 

95 


Starke,  the  lifelong  dandy  who  spent  his  whole 
time  in  Paris.  Miss  Starke  would  not  accept  a 
penny  she  did  not  earn.  She's  a  new  woman,  in 
spite  of  being  a  very  pretty  one,  that's  all.  She 
will  not  have  a  man  about  her — not  to  carry  a 
hand-bag.  She  even  broke  her  own  saddle-horse ; 
wears  bloomers  when  on  a  bicycle;  is  the  only 
woman  who  can  cast  a  fly  like  a  man  ;  learned  the 
trick  because  she  said  that  men  thought  they  owned 
fishing  as  a  masculine  monopoly,  and  she  wanted 
them  to  find  out  their  mistake.  She  is  president 
of  the  Pasquatoddy  Fishing  Club  of  women — the 
only  one  there  is.  More  about  her?  Yes,  she's 
interesting  enough.  Why,  she  was  suspected  of 
writing  startling  letters  to  the  Sun  in  favor  of  the 
new  regime  of  the  unshackled  sisterhood  of  un- 
sexed  women — and  never  denied  it.  No  woman 
went  to  greater  lengths  than  she ;  no  lady,  I  mean, 
for  it  must  be  admitted  that  she  was  always  gentle 
and  graceful,  and  all  that.  Still,  she  went  so  far 
that  she  was  too  much  for  the  women  of  the  fash- 
ionable St.  Barbara's  Mission,  and  the  University 
Settlement,  too,  I  believe.  And  then  she  slummed 
on  her  own  account,  talking  down  marriage  and 
love,  and  telling  the  shop-girls  and  mechanics  that 
seven-tenths  of  the  misery  in  the  world  came  of 
falling  in  love  and  marrying — '  binding  couples  to- 

96 


THE    SAD    FATE    OF    A   -NEW    WOMAN 

gether  with  only  one  hand  free,'  she  called  it; 
'  tying  folks  together  so  as  to  have  double  misery 
and  hardship  and  only  a  single  chance  to  rise.' 
That  sort  of  talk  wasn't  popular  with  natural  folk 
like  those  in  the  tenements,  and  they  guyed  and 
laughed  at  her,  so  that  she  had  to  write  to  the 
papers  to  get  a  quiet  hearing.  Oh,  you  can  see 
it's  not  that  Mildred  Starke  who  has  married  your 
friend." 

"  She  is  married,  just  the  same,  and  to  the  roy- 
alest good  fellow  you  will  ever  meet,  Burville.  He's 
a  giant,  a  tremendous  chap,  with  black  curly  hair, 
and  skin  like  a  Spaniard's,  who  was  quite  as  little 
inclined  to  marriage  as  she ;  a  fellow  who  followed 
a  rifle  wherever  it  took  him,  from  the  Eockies  to 
Africa.  He's  a  man  who  will  manage  his  own 
home  with  a  pretty  firm  hand,  I  should  think.  I'm 
glad  you  don't  mind  the  new  conditions  at  his 
shack  in  the  woods,  for  I  very  much  want  to  see 
how  Jack  Hibberd  works  in  double  harness." 

"  Mind  it  ?"  said  Burville ;  "  I  can  hardly  wait  to 
see  how  his  wife  will  look  when  I  tell  her  I  have 
resolved  to  pin  my  faith  to  the  old  women  here- 
after, since  the  new  ones  show  no  belief  in  their 
own  doctrines." 

What  he  really  did  say,  as  he  strode  ashore  from 
the  Lake  Champlain  steamer,  and  she  put  her  hand 
G  97 


THE    SAD    FATE    OF    A    NEW    WOMAN 

in  his,  was :  "  Well,  Mrs.  Hibberd,  since  love  is  a 
delusion,  and  marriage  is  a  mistake,  how  can  I 
congratulate  you  ?" 

"You  only  remember  part  of  what  I  used  to 
say,"  the  bride  merrily  replied.  "  You  forget  that 
I  always  said  that  'congratulations  on  marriage 
come  at  the  wrong  end  of  it.' ' 

Her  great  blue  eyes  laughed  as  she  swept  by 
him  up  the  woodland  road,  with  two  girl  visitors 
who  had  come  by  the  same  boat.  She  was  very 
stylishly  clad — not  at  all  as  she  used  to  dress,  in 
stiff  collar,  starched  shirt-bosom,  mannish  waist- 
coat, and  a  skirt  as  tight  as  a  lonely  trouser-leg, 
but  all  in  a  frou-frou  of  loose  drapery  and  lace 
and  ribbons. 

"By  Jove,  how  beautiful  she  is!"  exclaimed 
Marlin,  the  impressionable  bookworm,  turning  to 
speak  to  Burville,  but  saying  the  words  in  the  ear 
of  the  young  husband. 

"  Thank  you,  old  man,  though  you  did  not  mean 
me  to  hear  you,"  said  Hibberd.  "  But  I  know  that 
she  is  better  than  beautiful."  He  walked  ahead, 
and  then,  catching  up  to  Burville,  was  in  turn  mis- 
taken for  Marlin. 

"  To  think  of  that  being  Mildred  Starke,"  said 
Burville. 

"  But  it  isn't,  you  know,"  said  the  happy  man. 
98 


THE    SAD    FATE    OF    A    NEW    WOMAN 

"  She  only  used  to  be.  Oh,  no  apologies ;  that's 
all  right.  But,  really,  you  chaps  ought  to  get 
yourselves  straightened  out,  or  you'll  quarrel  with 
one  another  by  mistake.  What  you  want  is  a 
cocktail ;  come,  I'm  the  doctor  here.  What  '11  it 
be  ?  Manhattan  or  Martini  ?  You  know  the  ropes, 
Marlin ;  before  I  make  the  cocktails,  I'll  go  and  get 
the  blanket  suits.  Have  you  told  our  friend  that 
we  all  dress  in  blankets  here?  Mrs.  Hibberd  is 
attending  to  the  ladies.  You  must  get  along 
without  them  awhile.  No,  they  don't  wear 
blankets,  but  they  put  on  shirt-waists  if  they  have 
them.  We  all  go  in  for  comfort  here." 

The  place  was  nearly  a  mile  of  woodland,  beside 
the  lake,  and  deep  among  the  trees  were  two  log 
huts,  a  large  one  containing  the  men's  quarters, 
the  kitchen,  and  the  dining-room ;  the  smaller  one 
being  the  women's  "  shack,"  their  sleeping-room, 
where  the  beds  were  curtained  apart,  and  where 
everything  was  as  dainty  and  neat  as  the  exterior 
was  rude.  The  men's  sleeping-room  was  the  gen- 
eral assembly-room,  also,  in  the  big  "  shack,"  where 
the  beds  took  the  form  of  bunks  around  the  walls. 
In  one  end  of  that  room  was  a  piano,  and  in  the 
middle  of  it  was  a  great  round  table,  bearing 
magazines  and  pipes  and  tobacco  -  jars,  newspa- 
pers, match-mugs,  and  ash-receivers — relics  of  the 

99 


THE    SAD    FATE    OF    A    NEW    WOMAN 

days  gone  by,  when  the  place  was  a  bachelor's  re- 
treat. Modern  rifles  and  guns  shone  against  the 
walls,  beside  old  flint-locks,  tomahawks,  Sioux 
war -clubs,  snow-shoes,  spears,  and  many  well- 
mounted  heads  of  big  game.  When  the  men 
had  put  on  their  blanket  trousers,  buttoned  over 
blanket  shirts,  and  Hibberd  was  bringing  in  the 
cocktails,  they  noticed  that  Mrs.  Hibberd  was 
alone  on  the  porch  of  the  woman's  "  shack,"  look- 
ing towards  the  men's  quarters.  She  stood  there 
until  after  the  men  had  emptied  their  glasses  and 
had  gone  out  by  a  back  door,  upon  Hibberd's  in- 
vitation, to  see  his  kennel  of  high-bred  dogs. 
From  the  dogs  the  men  went  to  see  the  new 
keeper's  house  and  then  the  spring,  which  had 
been  walled  in  with  masonry.  They  spent  two 
hours  in  these  employments,  and  were  called  from 
them  by  the  dinner-horn.  Mrs.  Hibberd  was  still 
standing  on  the  porch  of  the  woman's  "shack," 
but  the  other  ladies  were  with  her.  Jack  Hibberd 
waved  a  hand  to  her  and  she  waved  hers  in  re- 
sponse. 

"  She  does  not  look  quite  well,"  Burville  thought. 

To  dinner  all  brought  keen  appetites  and  sharp- 
ened wits,  so  that  the  meal  was  everything  that 
it  should  have  been.  The  company  thought  the 
bride  as  brilliant  as  was  possible — except  Burville. 

100 


THE    SAD    FATE    OF    A    NEW    WOMAN 

He  fancied  he  had  never  seen  her  less  so ;  but, 
after  all,  there  was  less  change  in  her,  he  reflected, 
than  he  had  expected  to  find  in  one  who  had  made 
a  right-about-face  upon  all  her  old  ideas  of  what  a 
woman's  career  should  be. 

"  I  envied  her  her  happiness,"  said  Marlin,  when 
Burville  asked  him  afterwards  if  he  saw  that  Mrs. 
Hibberd  was  distrait  at  dinner.  "  I  am  sure  that 
her  husband  noticed  nothing.  Any  one  could  see 
how  proud  he  was  of  her." 

"  He  may  not  have  noticed  her  depression.  He 
is  too  vigorous  and  full  of  animal  spirits  to  be 
finely  sensitive,  perhaps,"  said  Burville.  "  I  once 
knew  a  man  whose  wife  said  that  when  she  was  in 
tears  she  had  to  tell  her  husband  so,  otherwise  he 
would  never  have  known  it." 

"  That  is  not  fair  to  Jack,"  said  Marlin. 

"  Then  I  take  it  back,"  said  Burville ;  "  believe 
me,  I  like  him  very  much.  He  is  as  strong  as  a 
lion,  and  yet  to  his  wife  he  will  always  be  a  kitten. 
My !  but  he  must  have  been  as  brave  in  love  as  he 
is  in  hunting,  to  have  won  her  away  from  her  no- 
tions. If  I  am  correct  in  fancying  her  out  of  sorts 
to-day,  it  is  because  our  coming  has  reminded  her 
of  New  York — of  home.  I  don't  wonder;  the 
solemn  woods  and  her  former  gay  surroundings  in 
town  are  very  dissimilar  places." 

1Q1 


THE    SAD    FATE    OF    A    NEW    WOMAN 

Sapient  man,  to  divine  the  fleeting  emotions  of 
a  woman's  mind ;  a  marvellous  feat — unless  the 
new  woman  is  very  much  simpler  than  the  old. 

After  dinner,  all  assembled  in  the  large  room  in 
the  men's  "shack,"  beside  the  great  round  table 
and  on  the  edges  of  the  bunks  nearest  to  it. 
Three  or  four  men  had  driven  over  from  the  near- 
est summer  resort,  and  the  company  had  become 
large,  as  well  as  brilliant,  for  it  contained  a  poet, 
a  novelist,  a  traveller  equally  famous,  and — among 
the  women — another  than  Mrs.  Hibberd  who  had 
been  a  popular  public  entertainer. 

"  We  expect  a  grand  time  to-night,"  one  of  the 
new-comers  said  to  the  bride. 

"  I  do,  too,"  said  she,  a  trifle  wearily,  keeping 
her  eyes  on  the  open  dining-room  doorway. 

"But  we  expect  you  to  give  us  the  greatest 
pleasure,  out  of  your  abundant  talent." 

"Oh,  please  don't  ask  anything  of  me,"  she 
said;  "it's  a  long  time  since  I  have  faced  an  au- 
dience." 

"Jack  must  be  making  punch  by  the  gallon," 
said  the  poet. 

"  By  the  barrel,  I  should  think,"  Mrs.  Hibberd 
replied. 

"  I  can  see  him — up  to  his  elbows  in  it,"  said  the 
poet.  "Oh,  Jack,  come  in  and  fill  a  pipe,  man. 

102 


THE    SAD    FATE    OF    A    NEW    WOMAN 

The  longer  you  keep  us  waiting,  the  better  the 
punch  will  taste  when  we  get  it." 

"  Do  you  really  think  so  ?  Do  you  think  that 
is  a  truth  that  applies  generally  ?  I  do  not,"  said 
the  bride. 

"You  think  that  punch  deferred  maketh  the 
heart  sick,  eh  ?"  the  novelist  interposed. 

"  Some  things  make  the  heart  tired,"  she  replied. 

The  poet  put  down  his  pipe  and  recited  some  of 
his  verses,  after  which  the  renowned  traveller  told 
of  an  adventure  while  tramping  in  Thibet  with  a 
priest.  There  was  then  a  general  demand  for  a 
song  from  the  bride ;  and  she  arose  and  went  to 
the  piano,  saying,  "  I  will  sing  to  you  a  love-song 
that  Jack  used  to  like."  She  sang  the  ballad  very 
sof  tly  and  prettily,  and  then  said :  "  Here's  an- 
other favorite  of  Jack's;  that  is,  it  used  to  be." 
This  sung,  she  flung  herself  into  a  flood  of  operatic 
melody,  and,  almost  without  pausing,  sang  a  negro, 
and  then  an  Irish  ditty,  and  followed  them  with 
one  of  Whitcomb  Eiley's  exquisite  poems  in  dia- 
lect set  to  music.  The  air  was  heavy,  and  the 
veins  of  the  listeners  pulsated  with  the  flood  of 
melody  that  she  poured  forth.  Her  husband 
brought  in  the  punch  and  served  it  while  she  sang. 
He  gave  to  her  the  first  glass,  putting  it  on  the 
piano-top  so  as  not  to  interrupt  her,  and  touching 
103 


THE    SAD    FATE    OF    A    NEW    WOMAN 

her  rosy  cheek  with  a  finger-tip,  tenderty,  as  he 
passed  behind  her  to  serve  another.  She  sang  like 
a  thrush  in  spring-time,  and  abundant  applause 
came  from  the  whole  company  in  a  long  fusillade 
of  clapping  and  chorus  of  praises. 

Then  the  poet  gave  a  series  of  recitations  of  his 
verses:  comic,  pathetic,  religious,  homely.  Jack 
Hibberd  came  in  and  took  the  only  vacant  chair — 
as  it  happened,  the  one  farthest  from  his  beautiful 
bride.  The  poet  showed  great  histrionic  talent ; 
bent  knuckles  stole  to  the  corners  of  wet  eyes,  and 
handkerchiefs  followed  them.  Women  laughingly 
confessed  that  their  feelings  had  been  worked 
upon.  One  man  admitted  that  he  had  wept  a  lit- 
tle, and  another  said  that  he  always  lost  his  self- 
control  over  certain  things  of  the  poet's.  The 
bride  moved  from  the  piano  to  the  edge  of  a  bunk, 
and  sat  there  with  her  psyche  knot  just  touching 
the  top  of  the  bunk  above  her,  and  her  face  in  its 
deep  shadow.  At  last,  the  poet  did  his  most  effec- 
tive thing,  a  description  of  tender  scenes  in  the 
life  of  a  gentle,  heroic  old  farmer,  who  saw  his 
wife  laid  away,  his  son  enlisted  for  war,  his  daugh- 
ter marry  and  emigrate.  The  bride,  so  newly 
torn  from  her  home,  broke  down  utterly.  Tears 
streamed  down  her  face,  and  she  hid  it  in  her 
handkerchief. 

104 


THE    SAD    FATE    OF    A    NEW    WOMAN 

"  Don't  mind  me,"  she  said,  "  it's  all  nonsense." 
Then  a  great  sobbing  began  to  rack  her  frame, 
and,  ashamed,  she  flung  herself  back  upon  the 
bunk,  and  the  company  could  only  see  the  move- 
ments of  her  knees  and  of  one  elbow  that  told  of 
the  convulsions  that  strained  her  body. 

The  poet's  satisfaction  was  complete.  He  had 
never  affected  an  auditor  like  that — and  such  a 
bright  and  worldly  Avoman,  too.  That  was  the 
highest  praise — unless,  perhaps,  the  royalties  on 
his  books  were  higher — than  any  he  had  yet  pro- 
voked. Jack  Hibberd,  phlegmatic  by  nature  and 
tired  by  his  day's  work  of  entertaining,  smoked 
his  pipe  and  looked  on ;  a  trifle  slow-minded,  an 
out-of-door  man  and  brother  to  nature. 

"  I  never  thought  that  Mildred  could  let  go  of  her- 
self like  that,"  he  said  to  the  person  nearest  to  him. 

Then  there  were  calls  for  the  bride  to  play. 
Oh,  no,  she  did  not  feel  like  it.  Then  would  she 
not  recite  ?  "  Yes,  yes,"  and  "  Oh,  please,"  from 
the  full  chorus.  So  she  rubbed  her  eyes  and  look- 
ed at  her  husband  for  inspiration — but  the  good- 
natured  soul  was  smoking,  so  that  she  recited  a 
bit  of  New  York  street  dialect  and  a  poetical  rec- 
ollection of  school -day  fun  —  things  that  had 
"taken"  in  the  tenements.  Now,  she  looked 
again  at  her  husband,  as  if  for  approval. 

105 


THE    SAD    FATE    OF    A    NEW    WOMAN 

"  You  know  what  I  like,  Mildred,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  no,  not  '  The  Light  Brigade,' "  she  pro- 
tested. 

"  Please,"  said  he. 

It  seemed  absurd  for  such  a  slender  slip  of  a 
woman — perhaps  it  seemed  absurd  for  any  woman 
— to  try  to  render  that  masculine,  impassioned,  he- 
roic, and  majestic  poem.  But  the  company  saw 
the  bride  undergo  a  mighty  gathering  of  herself 
together.  Then  the  words  began  with  a  magnetic 
ring,  with  flashing  eyes,  tautened  sinews,  with  the 
little  woman's  breast  thrown  out  and  her  chin 
held  up,  and  with  a  voice  that  played  on  the  emo- 
tions of  her  hearers  as  if  her  tones  were  fingers, 
they  were  harps,  and  their  feelings  were  tightened 
strings.  Her  words,  uttered  in  volleys,  shot  through 
her  hearers,  and  the  woods  caught  them  far  away 
and  sent  them  back  with  mighty  force  still  left  in 
them — a  marvellous  feat  for  a  young  woman.  For 
days  afterwards  all  talked  of  the  performance  as  a 
dramatic  triumph  that  would  have  made  a  wom- 
an's fortune  on  the  stage  of  one  of  the  world's  cap- 
itals. Everything  had  been  ready  for  it,  to  be 
sure  ;  the  audience  had  been  wrought  up,  and  she 
herself  had  been  sensitized,  keyed  up,  set  vibrat- 
ing. It  was  magnificent  in  consequence. 

The  women  went  to  bed. 

106 


THE    SAD    FATE    OF    A    NEW    WOMAN 

The  men  smoked  awhile,  and  drank,  and  ex- 
changed anecdotes.  In  the  pauses,  they  heard  the 
laughter  and  voices  of  the  ladies  in  the  smaller 
cabin. 

The  next  day  brought  fulfilment  of  all  that  the 
first  day  had  promised.  The  breath  of  the  woods 
was  perfumed,  the  women  were  gay  as  well  as 
beautiful,  the  fish  were  obliging,  the  wind  bellied 
out  the  sails,  laughter  was  flung  about  in  waves, 
like  festoons  beneath  the  tree  branches.  In  the 
late  afternoon,  while  the  other  ladies  were  dress- 
ing, Burville  found  the  bride  in  a  hammock  on  the 
porch  of  the  ladies'  quarters. 

"  Where's  my  boy  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,  just  now,"  said  Burville.  "  He's 
a  model  host,  that's  all.  He  has  been  devoting 
himself  to  us  all  day." 

"  I  must  have  him ;  I  can't  stand  it  any  longer," 
she  said.  Then  she  called,  "  Jack !  Jack  !" 

He  appeared,  dressed  like  a  summer  dandy. 

"What  do  you  want,  dear?" 

"  You,  darling." 

"  Oh !" 

He  got  into  the  hammock  with  her,  so  that  his 
shoes  hung  beneath  her  head,  and  her  feet  were 
beneath  one  of  his  arms. 

"  I  am  an  unhappy  woman,"  said  she.  "  I  have 
107 


THE    SAD    FATE    OF    A    NEW    WOMAN 

had  enough  of  this.  I  want  to  go  to  mamma. 
She  always  loves  me,  and  never  changes." 

"  I'll  go,  too,"  said  Jack. 

"  You  needn't ;  she  doesn't  love  you." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  married,  Mr.  Hib- 
berd  ?"  Burville  asked. 

"  Two  months,"  said  Hibberd. 

"  Two  months !"  Mrs.  Hibberd  repeated,  in  de- 
spair. "  Hear  the  man  !  It  will  be  three  months 
in  three  weeks  and  two  days." 

"  Heavens,  Mildred !  You  are  an  old  married 
woman,"  said  the  husband. 

"It's  not  what  it's  cracked  up  to  be,"  said 
she. 

"  Why  ?"  Burville  asked.  "  What's  the  matter  ? 
Are  you  unhappy?  You?  You,  who  sang  so, 
last  night;  recited  so,  played  so  merrily?  You, 
the  life  of  last  night— the  most  wonderful  night 
ever  spent  in  Bohemia !" 

"  H'mph.  Don't  say  '  you '  to  me.  Let  me  say 
it  to  you,  rather.  I  gay  ?"  she  asked.  "  Why  did 
I  seem  so?  Do  you  think  it  was  for  the  com- 
pany ?  Not  a  word  of  it ;  not  a  smile ;  not  an 
effort." 

"  Hey-dey,"  exclaimed  Burville. 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  "I'll  tell  it.  I'll  have  it  out. 
I  loved  this  man.  He  took  me  from  my  home 

108 


THE    SAD    FATE    OF    A    NEW    WOMAN 

and  ties.  He  could  not  wait — not  long  enough 
for  me  to  get  a  proper  trousseau  from  abroad.  He 
was  so  eager,  so  impatient,  so  carried  away  by 
love.  He  longed  to  bring  me  to  this  patch  of 
woods,  with  only  the  dear  dogs  to  bother  us,  or 
separate  us.  He  had  been  a  great  entertainer,  a 
confirmed  host ;  but  we  were  to  be  alone.  Well, 
our  friends  came  and  he  showed  his  talent.  He 
is  a  perfect  host ;  I  see  it  clearly ;  there  is  no  dis- 
puting it.  He  went  to  meet  them  at  the  wharf  at 
ten  minutes  to  two  o'clock  yesterday  afternoon, 
and  from  that  moment  he  forgot  me.  He  asked 
me  to  look  out  for  the  women ;  well,  I  am  not  a 
perfect  entertainer;  I  am  a  bride.  I'm  on  the 
edge  of  my  honeymoon.  I  bargained  for  atten- 
tion, for  homage,  for  affection.  I  was  shoved 
aside — all  day — all  night.  I  got  no  word,  nor 
look,  nor  thought.  Oh,  it  was  horrible.  As  the 
dreadful  night  wore  on,  and  he  buried  himself  in 
the  kitchen,  I  could  endure  it  no  longer.  I  played 
what  pieces  he  had  praised.  He  did  not  come ;  he 
did  not  come.  I  sang  again  the  first  things  I  had 
ever  sung  for  him — to  stir  his  conscience  through 
his  memory.  He  stayed  in  the  kitchen,  playing 
the  host.  Oh,  he  loves  to  play  the  host — better 
than  he  loves  his  wife.  I  sang  on,  and  played  on, 
everything.  Never  have  I  played  or  sung  so  well, 

109 


THE    SAD    FATE    OF    A    NEW    WOMAN 

for  I  seemed  to  be  fighting  for  life — for  more,  for 
my  husband's  love. 

"  Oh,  you  cannot  understand  me,  but  he  can. 
At  last,  he  came  in.  Not  to  me,  but  to  his  guests 
— with  horrid  punch.  It  was  delicious,  but  he  did 
not  ask  me  how  I  liked  it.  He  asked  the  others, 
and  when  the  women  said  it  was  sweet,  he  went 
away  and  made  more  and  made  it  sourer,  and 
stayed  away.  I  listened  to  the  poet  and  did  not 
hear  him.  I  could  not  stand  it.  I  could  have 
gone  to  him  in  the  kitchen,  but  it  was  his  place  to 
come  to  me.  He  did  not  come,  and  I  broke  down 
and  cried.  They  thought  the  poet  had  worked  on 
my  tender  chords — I  who  am  all  adamant — callous 
already,  to  every  tender  influence.  I  was  crying 
over  the  tragedy  of  my  heart,  crying  for  my  hus- 
band, for  the  love  I  had  lost.  Then  he  came  in. 
There  was  nothing  more  to  do  for  the  guests.  He 
had  given  them  my  day  and  my  night.  He  took 
the  chair  farthest  from  me.  He  saw  me  in  tears, 
and  did  and  said — what  ?  Nothing.  I  determined 
to  warm  his  heart;  to  blow  the  spark  (if  there 
was  a  spark  of  love  left)  into  the  old  flame  again. 
I  recited  what  I  knew  he  liked,  and  warmed  him 
a  little,  so  that  he  asked  for  my  best,  that  I  had 
left  untouched,  'The  Charge  of  the  Light  Bri- 
gade.' I  seemed  to  myself  to  be  inspired,  and  that 

110 


THE    SAD    FATE    OF    A    NEW    WOMAN 

feeling  gave  me  genius.  I  knew  it  was  my  last 
and  only  chance.  The  company  thought  my  fires 
blazed  like  that  for  them ;  that  they  had  worked 
me  up ;  that  I  was  a  perfect  hostess,  wearing  my- 
self into  hysteria  for  them.  When  I  had  finished, 
he  led  to  their  cabin  the  ladies  who  were  nothing 
to  him — and  I  followed.  He  kissed  me  good- 
night. Yes,  he  did  kiss  me  good-night.  I  admit 
that.  It  was  because  I  flung  myself  in  his  way, 
and  he  had  to  kiss  me  or  trample  on  me." 

"  Hone}^,"  said  Jack  Hibberd,  "  you  are  a  hum- 
bug." 

"  But,  as  I  was  about  to  say,  Mr.  Burville,  it  is 
all  over.  Now,  I  have  endured  a  second  day  of  it, 
and  can  stand  it  better — until  I  get  back  to  my 
mother." 


MRS.    RUPPERTS    CHRISTMAS 

A  STORY  OP  AN  ACTUAL  HAPPENING 

MKS.  JOHN  KUPPERT  made  great  prep- 
arations for  a  merry  Christmas  on  the 
Wednesday  before  that  holiday;  indeed, 
there  was  so  much  promise  of  a  good  time  that 
when  she  told  her  children  the  festivities  were  to 
begin,  in  old-country  fashion,  on  the  night  before 
Christmas,  it  seemed  to  her  that  there  would  be 
no  lack  of  pleasure  to  spread  over  Christmas  eve 
and  the  great  day  as  well. 

She  said  so  to  her  husband,  as  he  sat  stretching 
his  legs  and  smoking  his  clay  pipe ;  and,  also,  I 
may  say,  finding  himself  continually  in  her  way — 
as  he  would  have  been  anywhere  in  the  room  ex- 
cept upon  the  ceiling — so  rapidly  did  she  bustle 
about,  here,  there,  and  everywhere.  This  energy 
of  hers  was  principally  nervous ;  a  mere  glance  at 
her  spare  body  and  tightly  drawn,  colorless  skin 
showed  that  she  possessed  very  little  physical 
strength. 

112 


MRS.    RUPPERT'S    CHRISTMAS 

"  Ye  make  'em  such  a  cholly  Ghristmas ;  no- 
poddy  can  bead  it,  eh,  Chon  ?"  she  called  to  him. 

"  Yah,  you  vas  righd,  Minnie,"  said  the  tired 
toiler,  raising  his  deeply  lined  and  bearded  face 
with  something  of  an  effort;  and  then,  with  a 
greater  effort,  smiling  faintly  at  his  newly-vigor- 
ous spouse,  "  You  sayt  ve  vould  git  a  goot  Ghrist- 
mas. Und  I  didn't  dink  ve  could  manage  it." 

Few  others  in  Brooklyn  were  in  such  straits  as 
to  have  been  able  by  looking  in  on  the  Eupperts 
to  perceive  anything  in  their  condition  to  warrant 
the  high  spirits  of  which  the  husband,  wife,  and 
children  were  all  alike  possessed.  The  wife  was 
not  only  pinched  and  wan,  she  was  poorly  dressed, 
especially  for  winter  weather.  The  children  were 
as  badly  off,  covered  rather  than  clothed,  and  show- 
ing by  their  waxen  skins  and  hollow  cheeks  a 
pressing  need  of  nutritious  food.  The  floors  of 
the  house  were  all  bare,  and  within  the  four  walls 
there  was  not  a  single  trifle  or  ornament  or  su- 
perfluity except  what  had  come  there  for  this 
Christmas — in  fact,  there  was  less  of  furniture  than 
of  clothing,  and  there  had  been  less  of  food  than 
of  either  until  a  fortnight  ago.  For  John  Rup- 
pert  had  been  out  of  work  up  to  that  time  for 
two  months  or  more,  and  it  was  his  being  at  work 
once  again  and  earning  a  dollar  a  day  which  so 

H  113 


MRS.   RUPPERT'S    CHRISTMAS 

elated  his  little  flock  that  even  their  neighbors 
felt  the  reflection  of  their  happiness. 

Mrs.  Ruppert  had  nearly  a  dollar  which  she  felt 
that  she  could  spare  for  Christmas  and  still  man- 
age to  buy  coal  and  food  through  the  week  until 
her  husband  brought  another  six  dollars  for  as 
many  days  of  hard  labor  at  grinding  drugs  in  the 
Hardacre  Mills  in  this  city.  Mrs.  Ruppert  is  a 
very  sober-looking,  middle-aged  German  woman, 
and  has  five  little  babies  besides  the  one  that  drags 
at  her  breast,  but  she  has  all  a  German's  fondness 
for  children  and  for  turning  a  holiday  to  their 
account.  The  first  thing  she  did  was  to  buy  a 
Christmas  tree ;  not  exactly  a  tree,  but  a  foot  and 
a  half  off  the  end  of  a  bough  of  a  tree,  which  an- 
swered all  purposes  perfectly.  Only  ten  cents  was 
spent  on  that  ornament,  yet  it  caused  the  big-eyed, 
hollow-cheeked  little  Rupperts  at  home  to  leap  and 
dance  and  shout  with  delight  when  it  was  brought 
in-doors  and  set  up  in  a  dark  corner  of  the  chil- 
dren's bedroom — a  sort  of  closet  which  looks  very 
small,  yet  must,  at  least,  be  bigger  than  a  bed,  be- 
cause there  is  a  bed  in  it,  and  still  there  was  room 
to  crowd  the  tree  in  at  the  foot. 

Next,  Mrs.  Ruppert  put  out  a  quarter  of  a  dollar 
in  sugar  hearts,  bits  of  tinsel,  gorgeous  red  and 
blue  glass  balls,  and  broken  candy.  With  the 

114 


MRS.    RUPPERT'S    CHRISTMAS 

change  she  had  left,  she  bought  a  few  of  the  cheap- 
est toys  of  painted  wood  and  tin,  and  then  dressed 
the  tree  by  tying  all  these  things  to  it  with  pink 
cord,  so  that  it  gradually  grew  into  a  work  of  art 
as  gorgeous  as  a  stained-glass  window.  As  though 
there  was  to  be  no  end  to  the  good -luck,  Santa 
Glaus  came — at  least,  his  spirit  appeared  in  the 
heart  of  a  neighbor.  She  came  in  with  half  a 
dozen  second-hand  toys,  no  worse  off  than  to  have 
had  their  paint  dulled  and  scratched  by  a  year's 
wear,  and  these  were  done  up  in  parcels,  and  either 
hung  on  the  tree  close  to  the  trunk,  where  the 
branches  were  strong,  or  laid  on  the  block  of  wood 
in  which  the  tree  was  fastened. 

When  Freddie,  aged  fifteen,  the  eldest  boy,  came 
home  from  work  on  Wednesday  night,  he  gave 
his  mother  a  great  deal  of  help  in  fixing  up  the 
tree,  and  he  and  she  talked  over  the  long  period, 
eight  weeks  or  more,  when  the  two  dollars  Freddie 
earned  included  almost  every  penny  that  came  to 
the  house  for  the  family  of  eight  to  live  upon.  The 
mother  and  son  chatted  in  this  way  —  as  women 
love  to  do.  And  out  in  the  big  front  room,  which 
is  the  dining-room  and  old  folks'  bedroom  and 
family  sitting-room  all  combined,  there  in  silence 
sat  John  Ruppert,  a  stalwart,  brown -bearded, 
big  man,  in  very  coarse  clothes,  still  smoking 

115 


MRS.    RUPPERT'S    CHRISTMAS 

his  penny  clay  pipe,  and  finding  it  sweeter  than 
any  he  had  smoked  in  a  long  while,  just  because 
everybody  was  so  contented,  and  things  all  looked 
so  uncommonly  rosy. 

Yesterday  morning  he  and  his  eldest  boy  went 
their  separate  ways  to  work,  and  the  four  younger 
children  in  the  bed  in  the  little  room,  covered  over 
by  a  German  mattress,  exactly  like  a  greatly  over- 
grown pillow,  stared  first  into  the  dark  corner  to 
see  whether  the  tree  was  really  there,  or  whether 
the  entire  Christmas  doings  were  a  dream,  so  as 
to  know  whether  it  was  worth  while  to  wake  up 
or  not.  The  tree  was  there,  and  there  was  also  an 
unwonted  smell  of  cooked  breakfast  coming  from 
the  other  back  room,  as  if  in  double  proof  of  the 
good-luck  which  had  befallen  the  family.  That 
was  in  the  morning. 

In  the  evening  things  were  different. 

Before  it  was  yet  time  for  the  man  and  the  boy 
to  return  home  from  work,  a  policeman  rapped  at 
the  door.  The  door,  by  the  way,  is  almost  as  tall 
as  the  house,  which  is  nothing  but  a  long,  low 
box,  one  story  high,  and  setting  back  from  the 
street  in  stubborn  reference  to  the  time,  not  long 
gone  by,  when  the  street  was  a  thoroughfare 
between  vacant  lots  and  squatters'  shanties  in- 
stead of  the  well-appearing,  busy  street  of  shops 

116 


MRS.    RUPPERT'S    CHRISTMAS 

and  generally  comfortable  homes  that  it  is 
now. 

"  Does  Mrs.  Ruppert  live  here  ?"  the  policeman 
asked. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  a  little  German  woman,  a 
neighbor,  who  happened  to  be  visiting  the  Rupperts, 
and  was  nearer  the  door  than  Mrs.  Ruppert  was 
when  the  officer  rapped. 

"  Has  she  any  children  ?"  he  wanted  to  know. 

"  Six,"  said  the  woman. 

"  Then  God  help  her,"  said  the  officer,  "  for  her 
husband  is  dead." 

"  Come  in  and  tell  her,"  said  the  neighbor,  and 
the  bluff  but  tender-hearted  bluecoat  feared  that 
his  duty  might  compel  him  to  do  so,  though  he 
hated  the  task  immeasurably. 

"  Tell  her,  you,"  said  he. 

"Ach  Gott!"  exclaimed  the  neighbor  woman. 
"  It  vos  you  dot  came  to  tell  her — den  vhy  don't 
you  do  it?  Don't  scare  her,  blease.  Make  id  owd 
chently." 

The  policeman  lumbered  into  the  room  and 
across  it  to  where  Mrs.  Ruppert  stood,  stringing  a 
broken  doll  for  the  Christmas  tree,  and  she  looked 
up  at  him  with  wonder  slowly  creeping  into  her 
eyes. 

"  Are  you  Mrs.  Ruppert?"  he  inquired.    Then  he 

117 


MRS.    RUPPERT'S    CHRISTMAS 

went  on  with  his  dismal  duty :  "  Your  husband  is 
dead,  ma'am.  I'm  very  sorry,  ma'am.  He  fell 
dead  of  heart  disease  while  he  was  doin'  his  work 
in  the  mill  in  Ne'  York.  They've  brought  his 
body  over  to  the  morgue." 

He  meant  to  be  most  kind  and  tactful,  and  for 
however  much  he  fell  short  of  his  aim  we  must 
blame  his  clumsy  tongue  and  not  his  heart. 

There  can  be  no  use  in  dwelling  upon  what  Mrs. 
Ruppert  did.  She  was  a  nervous  and  emotional 
woman,  and  very  weak  withal.  She  screamed  and 
cried  and  flung  herself  on  the  bench  in  the  sitting- 
room,  and  refused  to  be  comforted.  Afterwards, 
whenever  one  of  her  paroxysms  of  grief  passed 
away,  she  sat  up  and  tried  to  look  into  the  future 
for  a  moment,  but  it  was  too  terrible.  The  man 
she  loved  and  upon  whom  she  depended  was  dead, 
and  there  were  the  five  younger  children  all  too 
small  to  work,  and  an  undertaker  already  in  the 
room,  talking  about  thirty-five  dollars;  and  there 
was  the  Christmas  tree — it  was  too  much  for  her, 
and  she  fell  back  again  and  seemed  nearer  to 
being  heartbroken  every  time  she  was  seized  with 
crying. 

Many  kind  women  of  the  neighborhood  came  in 
and  did  what  they  could  to  console  her,  crying 
with  her,  putting  their  arms  around  her,  and 

118 


MRS.    RUPPERT'S    CHRISTMAS 

washing  the  children  and  talking  to  the  under- 
taker and  policeman.  It  was  queer  how  kind 
everybody  who  had  anything  to  do  with  the 
matter  instantly  became.  The  policeman  went 
away  with  tears  in  his  eyes  to  the  station,  and  his 
captain  ordered  him  to  go  back  and  do  everything 
he  could  for  the  family.  The  undertaker  said  he 
would  bury  the  body  for  thirty-five  dollars,  but 
when  he  heard  exactly  how  desperate  was  the 
situation,  he,  too,  turned  kinder  than  before — 
kinder,  perhaps,  than  he  had  ever  been  in  a  busi- 
ness transaction  —  and  said  he  would  take  his 
chances  for  his  money.  He  got  a  better  coffin 
than  he  had  intended  to  give  for  the  price,  and 
drove  to  the  morgue  to  prepare  the  body  himself, 
as  nicely  as  if  John  Ruppert  had  been  earning  a 
dollar  an  hour  instead  of  a  dollar  a  day. 

He  set  up  the  coffin  in  the  room  on  the  right- 
hand  side  as  you  go  in,  a  room  which  the  Rupperts 
had,  not  long  before,  been  obliged  to  strip  until 
there  was  only  a  bureau  left  in  it.  He  threw  a 
black  cloth  over  the  coffin,  tied  a  rosette  and 
streamers  of  black  crape  to  the  front  door,  and 
went  his  way. 

The  night  after,  at  ten  o'clock,  Mrs.  Ruppert  was 
still  lying  on  the  bench  which  served  for  a  sofa  in 
the  front  bedroom.  She  was  still  sobbing,  but  with- 

119 


MRS.   RUPPERT'S    CHRISTMAS 

out  the  relief  of  tears,  for  she  had  cried  until  she 
could  cry  no  more.  She  seemed  dazed,  almost  un- 
conscious. She  did  not  even  raise  her  head  when 
the  reporters  and  the  people  from  the  station-house 
and  the  coroner's  office  and  the  neighborhood  all 
came  in  and  stood  around,  hats  in  hand,  or  peeped 
into  the  little  back  room  at  the  little  Christmas 
tree. 

The  Christmas  spirit  was  alive  there.  Death  it- 
self had  not  been  able  to  drive  it  away.  It  fell 
upon  whoever  entered  the  door,  no  matter  what 
his  errand,  for  all  spoke  in  softened  tones  and 
offered  sympathy,  or  stealthily  wiped  away  un- 
bidden tears — and  all,  even  the  poorest,  left  sums 
of  money  with  the  neighborhood  women.  These, 
like  the  rest,  were  under  the  Christmas  spell.  Had 
they  not  come  away  from  their  own  homes  and 
loved  ones  to  look  after  this  stricken  hearth  and 
to  comfort  the  widow  ? 

And  now  and  then  some  visitor  would  peep  into 
the  little  back  room  at  the  little  Christmas  tree, 
which  still  stood  in  the  corner,  shining  and  gor- 
geous, with  three  children  still  looking  at  it  over 
the  top  of  the  German  mattress. 


MY  BORROWED  TORPEDO-BOAT 

SCEATCH  a  Russian  and  you'll  find  a  Tartar 
underneath."  This  is  a  saying  which  ap- 
plies to  most  Russians  perhaps,  but  not  to 
M.  Grernurief.  A  more  gentle  soul  could  scarcely 
have  distinguished  any  babe  in  arms,  nor  could  a 
sweeter  disposition  easily  be  found  even  among 
the  women  throughout  all  the  Russias.  Since  I 
knew  him,  it  is  almost  needless  to  say  that  he  kept 
a  curio-shop,  for  the  chances  usually  are,  in  my 
travels,  that  it  is  to  the  dealers  in  bric-a-brac  that 
I  pay  my  earliest  and  most  frequent  visits.  His 
shop  was  in  St.  Petersburg,  close  to  the  Moscow 
railway  station.  It  was  a  very  small  one,  yet  it 
contained  more  altar  ornaments  of  real  old  Rus- 
sian bronze,  more  beautiful  old  ikons,  and  more 
ancient  oddities  in  brass  and  gilt  ware  than  any 
other  shop  I  had  seen. 

He  and  his  place  offered  the  unlikeliest  material 
for  an  adventure,  and  yet  they  provided  me  with 
the  greatest  sensation  of  my  life — an  adventure 

121 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

which  I  should  not  like  to  pass  through  again,  and 
yet  one  which  I  would  not  have  missed  on  any  ac- 
count. To  state  the  facts  briefly :  During  one  of 
my  visits  to  M.  Gremurief  s  shop  I  heard  the  cough 
of  a  third  person  sounding  apparently  in  the  room 
where  only  we  two  were  sitting.  In  itself  it 
startled  me  sufficiently,  though  the  manifest  con- 
sternation of  the  shopkeeper  gave  me  much  more 
to  think  of  after  I  had  parted  with  him.  I  asked 
him  what  the  noise  was,  and  it  was  painful  to  hear 
how  he  stuttered  and  stammered  out  a  denial  that 
there  had  been  any  sound  unless,  perhaps,  he  him- 
self had  coughed  without  being  aware  of  having 
done  so.  On  another  occasion,  while  I  was  seated 
in  the  shop  conversing  with  my  acquaintance,  a 
part  of  the  wall  behind  us  shook,  and  a  costly 
Chinese  drug-jar  fell  on  the  floor  in  pieces.  Again 
I  was  much  more  disturbed  by  the  frightened, 
guilty  manner  of  the  merchant  than  by  the  pecul- 
iar occurrence  itself.  Again,  on  another  day,  I 
sought  to  relieve  my  lonesomeness  with  his  com- 
pany. To  tell  the  truth,  I  was  not  adverse  to  dis- 
covering the  mystery  that  brooded  in  his  shop  and 
gave  rise  to  the  incidents  I  have  mentioned.  The 
door  stood  half  open,  and  I  sprang  up  the  steps 
and  inside  with  an  agility  which  left  no  time  for 
the  inmates  of  the  place  to  take  warning  of  my 

122 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

visit.  As  I  entered,  a  man  leaped  from  where  he 
had  been  standing  as  if  into  the  wall.  I  saw  his 
figure  distinctly  in  the  gloom  of  the  dusky  place, 
and  next  I  saw  that  he  Bulled  after  him  a  sort  of 
bureau  or  set  of  shelves  which  I  had  imagined  to 
be  an  immovable  fixture  of  the  shop. 

As  if  he  was  fascinated  by  the  sight,  or  perhaps 
horror-stricken,  H.  Gremurief  watched  the  cabinet 
slide  into  its  place,  and  I  watched  his  face  and  its 
look  of  alarm.  Then  we  greeted  each  other  and 
made  an  effort  to  converse  together.  It  was  im- 
possible. Both  of  us  were  too  ill  at  ease. 

"I  will  say  good-bye  to  you,"  I  remarked. 
"There  is  evidently  something  wrong  here,  and, 
in  Russia,  I  have  no  desire  to  meddle,  or  even  to 
intrude,  where  there  is  anything  dubious  or  un- 
derhand. It  is  too  dangerous." 

"In  the  name  of  all  the  saints,  don't  misjudge 
me!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  live  in  sufficient  terror 
as  it  is,  without  the  added  alarm  it  would  bring 
should  you  go  away  to  harbor  a  wrong  impression 
of  me.  I  am  in  your  power,  but  you  are  a  for- 
eigner and  cannot  have  any  interest  in  ruining  me. 
Come  to-night  at  eight  o'clock,  when  the  day's 
business  is  over,  and  I  will  bare  my  secret  to  you." 

At  that  hour  I  returned  and  found  Gremurief 
and  a  second  man,  a  stranger,  awaiting  me.  The 

123 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

shopkeeper  was  in  a  high  fever  of  excitement,  and 
plunged  into  his  story  almost  as  soon  as  I  was 
seated.  The  stranger  sat  shyly  by  in  silence,  with 
his  eyes  on  the  floor.  The  story  Gremurief  told 
me  was  that  he  had  a  wild  and  reckless  son  who 
was,  what  he  called,  a  patriot,  or,  as  we  would  say, 
a  nihilist.  This  son,  an  engineer  at  work  in  Mos- 
cow, had  sent  to  him  the  stranger  who  sat  with  us, 
asking  that  he  be  concealed  until  the  zeal  of  the 
police  in  searching  for  him  should  be  dulled,  and  he 
dared  to  try  to  make  his  way  out  of  Russia.  Gre- 
murief disavowed  sympathy  with  the  nihilists,  and 
I  believe  he  was  pursuing  no  other  interest  than 
affection  for  his  son. 

"This  man  is  not  merely  an  outlaw,"  he  said, 
looking  at  the  fugitive  with  something  more  of 
sternness  than  I  had  supposed  he  had  the  spirit  to 
command,  "  he  is  a  bungler  and  a  fool.  Twice  he 
aroused  your  suspicion  by  the  noises  he  made,  and, 
finally,  after  repeatedly  risking  exposure  by  com- 
ing out  of  his  hiding-place,  he  allowed  you  to  dis- 
cover him." 

"  My  feet  ached,"  said  the  man,  with  the  look  of 
one  who  knows  he  is  speaking  foolishly.  "  Some- 
times I  preferred  a  lifetime  in  Siberia  to  even  an- 
other ten  minutes  of  the  pain  which  so  much 


standing  caused  me." 


124 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

"  You  will  not  complain  of  that  pain  any  more," 
said  the  shopkeeper.  "To-night  you  go  out  on 
your  travels.  I  will  not  harbor  you  another  day." 

Then  followed  a  dialogue  of  the  most  moving 
character.  The  fugitive  pleaded  with  the  shop- 
keeper to  reconsider  his  cruel  decision  and  allow 
him  to  remain.  M.  Gremurief  was  firm  and  al- 
most pitiless.  He  declared  that  he  had  lived  in 
terror  long  enough,  and  could  endure  no  more  of 
it.  The  wretched  outlaw  pleaded  and  moaned, 
and  even  I  interceded  for  him — like  a  fool.  But 
the  shopkeeper  was  obdurate. 

"You  hid  Nikola vitch  for  three  months,"  said 
the  nihilist,  "  and  no  harm  came  to  you ;  yet  in  my 
case,  after  only  a  week,  your  patience  vanishes, 
and  you  are  going  to  abandon  me  to  the  wrath  of 
the  Czar." 

"  I  did  not  hide  Nikolavitch,"  the  shopkeeper  re- 
plied, angry,  truthful,  and  completely  off  his  guard. 

"  Oh,  you  did — you  surely  did,"  the  man  insisted. 
"  Every  patriot  in  our  circle  in  Moscow  knows  that 
you  did." 

"No,  my  poor  friend,"  M.  Gremurief  replied. 
"  You  are  the  first  nihilist  who,  to  my  knowledge, 
has  ever  entered  my  premises  —  except  my  mis- 
guided son,  of  course." 

"  By  whom,  then,  was  Nikolavitch  hidden  2"  the 

125 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

nihilist  persisted.  "  You  know  it  was  only  your 
kind  heart  that  saved  him.  "Why  do  you  not  only 
spoil  a  good  deed,  but  put  a  lie  against  yourself  on 
God's  books  3" 

"  Fool,"  said  Gremurief,  "  it  was  not  I,  but  the 
Princess  Golrouki  who  hid  Nikola vitch." 

"  Take  me  to  her,  then.  At  least  tell  me  where 
she  is.  She  will  not  have  a  heart  of  marble  like 
you." 

"  She  is  at  her  home  in  the  city,"  Gremurief  an- 
swered. "  But  you  shall  not  go  to  her,  for  she  has 
had  risk  enough.  Her  hair  has  been  bleached  by 
constant  danger  for  twenty  years.  Hereafter  she 
shall  enjoy  the  peace  she  has  earned." 

At  this  the  man  sprang  to  his  feet,  and,  throwing 
back  his  head,  so  as  to  take  on  the  attitude  which 
painters  give  to  a  victor  in  the  Roman  arena,  he 
almost  petrified  us  both  by  what  he  said : 

"  The  Princess  shall  indeed  receive  what  she  has 
earned.  I  am  Denisov,  of  the  police — you  know  my 
rank  and  reputation.  I  have  now  all  the  proof  I 
need  against  your  son,  yourself,  the  Princess,  and 
many  others.  You  cannot  escape;  you  will  find 
the  front  and  back  of  this  house  guarded  all  night. 
In  the  morning  you  will  be  taken  before  my  superi- 
ors. Your  American  friend  may  take  his  leave.  I 
will  pay  my  respects  to  him  later,  when  he  will 

126 


I  AM  DESISOV  OF  THE  POLICE  '  " 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

answer  to  the  authorities  for  the  company  he  keeps 
and  the  republican  sentiments  I  have  heard  him 
express  during  his  visits  here." 

Twenty  hours  later  I  sauntered  into  the  hotel  at 
which  I  was  stopping.  Nothing  had  come  of  the 
police  official's  threat,  and  I  could  not  bring  myself 
to  believe  that  I  was  in  danger.  I  passed  along  a 
side  corridor  towards  my  room.  Suddenly  a  man 
who  was  walking  ahead  of  me  turned  right-about 
face  and  spoke  to  me,  with  a  torrent  of  whispered 
words. 

"  The  police  are  waiting  for  you  in  your  apart- 
ment," he  said.  "They  have  taken  your  money 
and  your  passport,  which  you  left  with  the  land- 
lord. Go  to  your  room,  and  nothing  can  save  you 
from  continuing  until  the  oblivion  of  Siberia  envel- 
ops you.  They  connect  you  with  some  great  nihil- 
istic plot,  and,  though  you  are  innocent,  they  will 
swear  your  liberty  away  in  order  to  gain  the  more 
credit  for  zealous  work.  I  am  a  friend  of  the 
Princess  Golrouki,  who  has  risked  everything,  and 
now  has  lost  everything,  for  the  cause  of  liberty. 
She  prays  for  your  escape.  Turn  at  once,  follow 
me,  but  do  not  speak  to  me  either  in  this  house  or 
in  the  street  unless  you  wish  me  harm.  I  will 
take  you  by  a  back  way  to  the  street.  Then  you 
must  shift  for  yourself." 

127 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

In  an  hour'  I  was  aboard  the  ship  Alexis  as  it 
steamed  down  the  Neva,  bound  for  Stockholm.  It 
was  the  same  boat  on  which  I  had  come  to  St. 
Petersburg,  and  the  captain  and  I  were  friends. 
In  the  morning,  at  breakfast,  I  sat  at  the  captain's 
left  hand,  and  he  said,  motioning  to  the  opposite 
seat,  "Inspector  Denisov,  a  high  official  of  the 
police,  is  on  board  and  will  eat  with  us.  He  is  on 
a  serious  errand.  A  foreign  nihilist  is  among  the 
passengers,  it  seems,  and  is  to  be  arrested  at  Hel- 
singfors,  if  he  does  not  try  to  get  off  the  ship  be- 
fore we  reach  there.  He  is  charmi  ng — the  inspector, 
I  mean.  I  will  introduce  you.  By-the-way,  you 
have  not  yet  given  me  your  passport.  I  must 
trouble  you  for  it,  as  our  companion  at  table  de- 
sires the  papers  of  all  the  passengers  to  be  sub- 
mitted to  his  inspection." 

I  blushed  rose  red  and  stammered  something 
about  my  papers  being  in  my  trunk.  For  an  in- 
stant the  hope  that  I  could  retain  possession  of  the 
paper  lingered  in  my  mind,  but  I  quickly  dismissed 
it.  Of  what  use  could  it  be  to  postpone  events, 
since  it  could  be  but  a  question  of  a  few  hours' 
time  when  all  my  belongings,  and  my  person  as 
well,  must  pass  into  the  custody  of  my  pursuer. 

"It  is  all  right,  since  I  know  you,"  said  the 
captain.  "  Give  it  to  me  as  soon  as  it  is  conven- 

128 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

ient."  Then  the  official  came  in  to  breakfast — the 
only  man  I  feared  in  all  the  world.  We  were  in- 
troduced, but  he  did  not  betray  any  peculiar  inter- 
est in  me,  and  thereafter  we  chatted  at  our  meal- 
time meetings  as  if  there  was  nothing  whatever, 
except  agreeable  acquaintanceship,  between  us. 

At  Helsingfors,  in  Finland,  the  sun  had  set,  and 
the  night  was  moonless  and  cloudy.  The  darkness 
soon  became  intense.  When  the  ship  turned  to 
make  the  harbor,  Inspector  Denisov  touched  me 
upon  the  shoulder  and  said : 

"  You  will  go  ashore  here.  I  have  had  your  lug- 
gage put  on  deck.  Though  you  have  no  passport, 
I  will  answer  for  you  to  the  police." 

I  turned  and,  walking  across  the  ship  and  then 
the  whole  length  of  it  to  the  stern,  sprang  over- 
board without  a  notion  of  what  I  was  going  to  do 
if  I  should  have  the  good  fortune  to  save  myself 
from  drowning.  I  merely  took  the  precaution  to 
see  that  no  one  was  looking  or  was  near  by.  Being 
an  excellent  swimmer,  I  struck  out  boldly,  and  di- 
rected my  strokes  towards  the  dark  shore  beside 
the  lights  of  Helsingfors,  many  miles  away ;  per- 
haps farther  than  a  man  should  try  to  swim. 

"  Why  so  fast?"  I  heard,  in  the  voice  of  Denisov, 
behind  me  in  the  water.     "  Can  we  not  swim  to- 
gether for  company's  sake?" 
i  129 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

I  was  startled  and  mortified  to  find  that  he  was 
still  pursuing  me,  and  in  this  fashion,  so  desperate 
for  him  as  well  as  for  me,  I  made  no  reply,  nor  did 
I  moderate  my  strokes. 

"  This  is  not  at  all  a  Russian  bath,"  he  called 
again.  "  Don't  you  find  it  cold  ?" 

I  would  not  answer  him.  I  swam  on  and  on, 
and,  hearing  no  more  from  him  after  half  an  hour 
had  passed,  was  hopeful — I  confess  it — that  he  had 
taken  a  cramp  and  gone  down.  After  several  min- 
utes more  of  sturdy  swimming  I  saw  a  long  black 
hulk  rising  above  the  water  before  me.  I  swam  to 
it,  found  a  rope  hanging  down  to  the  water's  edge, 
and  clambered  up  the  steel  side  of  the  vessel,  to 
find  myself  on  the  deck  of  a  torpedo-boat.  When 
I  stood  upright,  a  man  in  naval  uniform  came  up 
out  of  a  round  hole  in  the  deck  and  endeavored  to 
talk  with  me.  While  he  and  I  were  trying  to  un- 
derstand each  other,  a  cry  in  Russian,  coming  from 
the  water  beside  the  vessel,  interrupted  us.  It  was 
Denisov's  voice.  The  man  in  uniform  pulled  him 
up  on  to  the  deck,  and  there  he  and  I  stood  once 
more  face  to  face — like  me  and  my  problem  how 
to  escape. 

Denisov  addressed  himself  with  authority  to  the 
naval  man,  who  touched  his  hat  with  servility  and 
disappeared  between  decks. 

130 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

"  There  is  only  one  other  man  on  board,"  Deni- 
sov  said  to  me ;  "  but  fortunately  this  one  is  an 
engineer  and  the  other  is  a  stoker  or  fireman.  This 
is  a  new  vessel  on  its  trial  trip.  It  has  not  yet 
been  delivered  to  the  government,  but  I  have  assert- 
ed my  authority,  since  it  is  a  Russian  vessel,  and 
we  are  to  be  taken  to  the  town.  It  is  better  than 
swimming.  Will  you  go  forward  to  the  officers' 
quarters  ?" 

"  I  will  stay  here,"  I  replied. 

"  As  you  please,"  said  he.  "  I  think  I  will  .follow 
your  example,  since  there  is  no  one  else  to  steer 
the  boat.  I  advise  you  to  go  below.  You  will  be 
ill  if  you  do  not  go  out  of  this  raw  wind." 

"  I  may  as  well  surrender  to  you,"  I  said ;  and  I 
noticed  that,  as  I  spoke,  a  tremor  ran  through  the 
vessel,  betokening  the  beginning  of  the  movement 
of  the  engine. 

"  You  are  wise,"  he  answered.  "  I  wish  I  could 
promise  you  something  more  agreeable  than  Siberia. 
Still,  if  you  have  not  seen  that  country  it  may  be 
as  well  to  have  a  look  at  it." 

"  You  carry  too  many  guns  for  me,  as  we  say  in 
America,"  I  replied ;  and  I  felt  the  vessel  quiver 
and  shake,  and  heard  the  screw  splashing  in  the 
water  behind  me. 

Denisov,  put  somewhat  more  at  ease  by  my  dec- 
131 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

laration  of  helplessness,  tugged  at  his  sopping 
clothes  to  get  at  his  cigarettes,  and  find  whether 
by  any  chance  one  of  them  was  sraokable.  While 
he  was  awkwardly  wrenching  at  his  hand  to  release 
it  from  his  wet  pocket,  I  leaped  forward,  and, 
planting  both  hands  upon  his  shoulders,  flung  him 
back  into  the  gulf.  At  the  same  instant  I  ran  to 
the  wheel,  and,  putting  it  hard  about,  turned  the 
vessel  in  a  sharp  curve  out  to  sea,  and  westward 
towards  Sweden — and  freedom.  The  engineer  was 
not  putting  on  the  headway  that  I  required,  so  I 
ran  down  the  light  ladder-like  companion  way  and 
yelled  to  him,  "Politseiskoi  govovite  skorei ;  mukha 
— poshol  skorei,"  a  barbarous  effort  to  say  that  the 
police  officer  bade  him  hurry,  fly,  go  faster. 

"  Da,  da,"  said  the  engineer,  and  the  narrow 
wedge  of  a  boat  leaped  ahead  almost  like  a  flying- 
fish,  now  partly  above  the  little  waves,  now  wash- 
ing her  foremost  half  in  the  water  she  threw  up 
ahead,  and  all  the  time  throbbing  as  if  she  would 
loosen  the  plates  which  sheathed  her  sides. 

Successful  as  my  bold  effort  for  freedom  at  all 
hazards  had  thus  far  proved,  I  was  far  from  con- 
fident that  it  could  be  carried  out  to  the  end.  I 
knew  that  if  there  was  a  war-ship  at  any  port  on 
the  coast  between  me  and  the  Baltic,  it  would  be 
ordered  by  telegraph  to  capture  me ;  and,  consider- 

132 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

ing  the  powerful  search-lights  which  all  such  ves- 
sels carry,  how  could  I  hope  to  escape  ?  True,  my 
boat  could  steam  faster  than  a  battle-ship,  but  a 
well-aimed  shot  would  bring  me  to  terms,  if  not  to 
the  bottom.  And  then  there  was  the  engineer ! 
It  would  require  nearly  seven  hours  of  steaming  at 
the  highest  speed  to  reach  the  other  side  of  the  sea, 
and  this  man  was  only  ordered  to  go  to  Helsingfors, 
close  by.  In  a  few  minutes  he  would  come  up  on 
deck  to  see  why  we  had  not  ordered  him  to  slow 
down  or  stop.  He  would  find  himself  at  sea.  What 
then  ?  I  could  not  answer  that  question.  I  kept 
my  place  at  the  wheel,  and  trusted  to  luck  —  or 
pluck,  whichever  would  serve  best.  As  I  had  ex- 
pected, presently  the  engineer  came  on  deck.  He 
asked  me  in  pantomime  and  in  Kussian  where  the 
police  officer  was.  I  pointed  below.  He  looked 
about  him  at  the  sea,  and  went  back  to  his  engine, 
puzzled  and  shaking  his  head. 

"  He  will  come  up  again,"  I  said  to  myself,  "  and 
I  will  throw  him  down  and  tie  him,  leaving  the 
engine  to  run  itself.  But  where  shall  I  get  a 
rope  ?" 

The  vessel  leaped  onward  as  fast  as  ever  boat 
ploughed  sea  on  earth,  and  I  stood  at  the  wheel 
straining  my  eyes  for  men-of-war  or  headlands  or 
moving  vessels  in  our  path.  I  fancied  I  heard  a 

133 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

human  cry,  but,  as  it  was  not  repeated,  felt  certain 
that  I  had  been  mistaken. 

In  time  I  thought  of  the  rope  by  which  I  had 
pulled  myself  aboard  the  boat.  "  The  very  thing 
I  want,"  thought  I,  and,  opening  my  pocket-knife 
to  cut  it  with,  I  went  to  look  for  it,  feeling  the 
edge  of  the  boat  with  one  hand  as  I  made  my 
way  on  hands  and  knees.  In  the  inky  darkness  I 
could  not  see  two  feet  before  me,  yet  I  did  distin- 
guish something  of  lighter  hue  than  the  atmosphere 
on  the  edge  of  the  deck.  I  reached  out  and  felt — 
a  human  hand ! 

I  passed  my  own  hand  over  the  side,  and  felt  the 
sleeve  of  a  tautened  arm  below  the  hand.  Grasping 
it  with  both  of  my  hands,  and  pulling  with  all  my 
might,  I  felt  the  owner  of  the  arm  assisting  me, 
and  in  another  moment  I  had  him  so  that  he  got  a 
knee  on  the  deck  and  was  saved.  I  flashed  my 
pocket -lamp  in  his  face.  It  was  Denisov.  He 
tried  to  stand,  but  when  I  pulled  him  upon  his  feet 
he  fainted  and  fell  into  my  arms.  I  dragged  him 
to  the  middle  of  the  deck,  and,  after  steadying  the 
vessel's  course,  crept  to  the  side  again  and  cut  off 
the  rope,  by  which  he  had  evidently  clung  to  the 
vessel  ever  since  we  started.  Then,  long  and  hard, 
but  wholly  in  vain,  I  tried  to  revive  him.  As  he 
was  warm  and  breathing,  I  ran  below  and  fetched 

134 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

up  two  blankets.  After  rolling  him  up  in  one  and 
using  the  other  as  a  pillow  under  his  head,  there 
seemed  nothing  more  to  be  done  for  him.  During 
the  time  spent  in  all  this  work  we  passed  close  be- 
side two  sailing-ships,  half  a  mile  apart,  but  were 
not  noticed  by  the  people  aboard  either  one. 

An  hour  must  have  passed  before  the  engineer 
came  on  deck  again.  This  time  he  was  disturbed 
and  vociferous.  He  signalled  to  me  that  Denisov 
was  nowhere  below.  I  flashed  my  light  in  the 
police  official's  face,  and  made  signs  that  he  was 
asleep.  The  mere  glimpse  which  he  got  of  the 
pallid  face  of  my  captive  caused  the  engineer  to 
suspect  that  he  was  being  deceived.  He  bent  for- 
ward to  feel  the  body,  but  I  pushed  him  back  to  an 
upright  position  and  sternly  bade  him  return  to 
his  post.  He  turned  sullenly,  and  as  he  was  lower- 
ing his  body  into  the  opening  in  the  deck  I  sprang 
forward,  passed  the  rope  under  and  around  his  arms, 
and  pinioned  them  securely  behind  his  back.  Then 
I  assisted  him  down  the  ladder  by  holding  the  collar 
of  his  coat,  and,  following  him  to  the  engine-room, 
pressed  the  muzzle  of  my  revolver  against  his  fore- 
head as  a  hint  of  what  would  befall  him  should  he 
cause  me  any  trouble. 

For  at  least  another  hour  the  boat  sped  on,  and 
I  kept  her  to  her  course  without  further  adventure. 

135 


MY    BORROWED   TORPEDO-BOAT 

Then  the  engineer  called  to  me,  and  begged  me, 
with  much  groaning,  to  untie  his  arms.  I  did  so, 
and,  with  an  alacrity  that  impressed  me,  he  sprang 
to  the  engine  and  manipulated  certain  of  its  levers 
and  faucets.  I  understood  from  the  signs  and  mo- 
tions he  subsequently  made  that  he  desired  to  im- 
press me  with  the  necessity  of  his  being  free  to 
use  his  hands  in  running  the  engine.  He  promised 
full  obedience  and  the  highest  speed  the  engine 
could  make.  Greatly  eased  in  mind,  I  left  him, 
carrying  my  rope  with  me ;  but  on  deck  I  found 
Denisov  moving  restlessly  and  regaining  conscious- 
ness. 

When  I  spoke  to  him  he  said  he  was  dead. 

"  Forgive  my  sins,"  he  groaned ;  "  I  was  drowned 
at  sea,  and  there  was  no  priest." 

It  was  with  great  difficulty  that  I  made  him 
understand  that  he  was  alive  and  safe,  but  that  I 
would  not  hesitate  to  throw  him  overboard  again 
unless  he  acknowledged  that  the  tables  were  turned 
and  he  had  become  my  prisoner. 

"You  have  saved  my  life,"  he  said.  "  I  will  not 
put  a  straw  in  your  way  after  this.  Let  me  go 
below  and  get  into  bed." 

"  No,"  said  I,  on  second  thoughts,  "  I  will  not 
trust  you.  You  have  your  duty  to  your  Czar  to 
perform,  and  that  is  above  everything — even  above 

136 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

truth  and  honor — with  you  Russians.  If  you  at- 
tempt to  go  below,  if  you  even  attempt  to  get  on 
your  feet,  I  swear  I  will  kill  you." 

"  You  are  right,"  he  said.  "  I  will  be  frank  with 
you  because  you  are  brave,  and  I  owe  you  thanks 
for  taking  me  on  board.  I  would  break  any  oath 
if  I  could  get  a  chance  to  take  you  back  to  Rus- 
sia.  Now,  I  will  beg  one  favor :  if  we  are  over- 
hauled by  a  Russian  war-ship,  promise  to  tie  my 
hands,  so  that  it  shall  be  seen  that  you  overpowered 
me." 

"  I  will  tie  them  now,"  said  I.  "  Roll  over  on 
your  stomach  and  put  your  hands  behind  you." 

He  obeyed.  I  pinioned  him,  as  I  had  the  en- 
gineer—  like  a  fowl  made  ready  for  the  oven. 
As  I  straightened  back  to  an  upright  posture  I 
drew  a  long  breath  and  almost  shouted.  I  be- 
lieved myself  sure  of  regaining  my  freedom. 

On  and  on,  ceaselessly,  like  a  bullet  skimming 
the  sea,  the  arrow-like  vessel  shot  forward,  kick- 
ing the  water  behind  it  with  its  whirling  foot. 
Hours  passed — hours  that  were  like  days  to  me — 
and  still  we  skimmed  along.  At  what  I  thought 
was  Hango,  but  what  must  have  been  a  port  of  the 
Aland  Islands,  I  saw  a  search-light  flashing,  stream- 
ing, sweeping  the  sea  in  the  distance  behind  me. 
It  never  once  was  turned  in  my  direction,  and  I 

137 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

believe  that  the  men  who  manipulated  it  did  not 
imagine  that  my  boat  could  have  already  passed 
them. 

Gray  came  tingeing  the  east,  and  a  faint  cloud- 
like  wall  of  distant  land  was  becoming  vaguely 
distinguishable  a  few  miles  ahead,  when  I  noticed 
that  the  engine  was  slowing  up.  The  engineer 
came  on  deck,  and,  after  touching  his  cap  in  token 
of  his  respect,  held  out  both  hands  with  a  gesture 
of  despair.  I  bade  Denisov  question  him. 

"  The  fuel  has  run  out,"  said  he.  "  The  engine 
will  stop  in  a  few  minutes.  The  engineer  says  he 
sees  land  ahead,  and  asks  if  it  is  the  Alands." 

"  It  must  be,"  I  replied. 

"  You  have  done  bravely,"  said  Denisov ;  "  but 
you  have  lost.  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  your 
company  all  the  way  back  again." 

As  he  spoke  my  quick  ears  caught  the  sound  of 
a  steamer's  screw  in  the  distance.  I  ordered  the 
engineer  below,  and  scanned  the  sea.  The  engine 
stopped  while  I  was  looking  and  listening,  and  we 
began  to  crawl  through  the  water.  We  were 
headed  directly  for  a  wooded  shore,  and  were  not 
above  a  mile  from  it.  After  looking  at  it  intently 
for  a  few  moments,  I  turned  and  saw  the  black 
mountainous  hulk  of  a  great  ship  breaking  through 
the  morning  grayness. 

138 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

"  Go  below  instantly,"  I  said  to  Denisov,  and, 
lifting  him  to  his  feet,  I  almost  pushed  him  down 
the  hole  in  the  deck.  I  was  sure  that  he  had 
heard  and  seen  nothing  of  the  ship  which  was 
bearing  down  on  us,  and  I  wanted  him  out  of  the 
way  lest  we  should  be  hailed  in  Russian  and  he 
should  answer  in  my  place. 

We  crawled  on,  and  the  black  monster  shot 
ahead  and  passed  us.  I  hoped  we  had  not  been 
seen — we  were  so  small  and  low  in  the  water — but 
presently  I  heard  a  confusion  of  voices  on  the 
great  ship's  deck,  and  next  I  saw  her  side-lights 
coming  into  view.  My  craft  had  been  discovered, 
and  my  pursuer  was  turning  to  overhaul  it. 

When  I  was  certain  that  this  was  the  case  I  slip- 
ped overboard  and  began  to  swim  for  the  shore, 
now  not  half  a  mile  away.  I  heard  the  torpedo- 
boat  hailed  while  I  swam.  From  the  beach  I 
could  see  a  small  boat  put  out  from  the  ship  and 
move  towards  the  torpedo-boat.  At  the  same 
instant  the  morning  mist  thinned  around  the  ship, 
and  I  saw  that  she  was  a  battle-ship  flying  the 
French  flag. 

With  fear  spurring  my  heels  I  plunged  into  the 
woods  and  ran.  It  was  evening  before  I  came  to 
a  town  and  found  that  I  was  in  Sweden. 

139 


BEUCE'S  MIGHTY  WEAKNESS 

WHAT  could  be  more  unusual  and  out  of 
place  at  a  ladies'  reception  than  an  ar- 
gument upon  a  serious  subject  between 
two  of  her  devotees?  Yet  this  happened  at  the 
house  of  Mrs.  "Whitehall  in  "Washington  Square, 
North,  on  the  second  of  her  Thursdays  in  Febru- 
ary. It  was  in  one  of  those  great,  dignified,  old- 
fashioned  mansions  which  are  still  to  be  found 
there  and  on  Second 'A venue,  and  which  help  to 
make  us  believe  that  there  may  be  something 
in  the  tedious  talk  of  old  men  who  forever  boast 
of  "  the  good  old  times." 

Of  those  whom  Mrs.  "Whitehall  honored  with  an 
invitation  only  one  was  very  peculiar.  The  others 
were  the  sort  of  persons  we  know  so  very  well 
that  most  of  us,  I  suspect,  are  a  little  tired  of 
them.  It  must  be  so,  since  they  are  like  our- 
selves. The  exceptional  feature  was  one  of  the 
two  men  who  indulged  themselves  in  serious  ar- 
gument on  that  second  Thursday.  His  name  was 

140 


BPwUCE'S    MIGHTY    WEAKNESS 

Bruce.  Those  who  knew  him  at  all  knew  that  he 
was  a  very  able  electrician ;  only  a  salaried  em- 
ploye just  then,  of  an  Atlantic  Cable  Company, 
but  full  of  promise  as  an  inventor  and  as  a  man 
destined  to  carve  out  independence.  However, 
that  would  not  have  helped  him  into  the  choice 
circle  of  Mrs.  Whitehall's  friends.  Promissory 
notes  are  not  cashed  in  society.  The  hard  coin 
which  he  had  to  offer  was  that  he  was  a  nephew 
of  Chief- Justice  Donald  Bruce,  husband  of  a  Knick- 
erbocker millionairess. 

"We  who  are  in  society— and  who  is  not  in  these 
days,  when  no  one  is  so  humble  that  his  wife  does 
not  hold  her  Thursdays? — we  weigh  men  different- 
ly according  to  the  end  of  town  in  which  we  hap- 
pen to  be.  Down-town  we  sa}r  that  Bruce  is 
eligible  to  our  luncheon  club  because  he  is  a  repu- 
table and  engaging  }7oung  man.  Up-town  we  say 
we  will  admit  him  to  our  drawing-rooms  because 
he  is  the  nephew  of  his  uncle  and  aunt — chief- 
justice  and  lady  of  millions. 

Such  receptions  as  Mrs.  Whitehall's  are  alike  as 
so  many  peas.  In  the  front  room  a  very  few  men 
and  many  women  stood  and  sat  about ;  the  men 
with  their  gloves  on  to  show  that  they  understood 
that  they  were  invited  only  to  pay  their  respects 
and  withdraw ;  the  women  wearing  their  capes 
141 


BRUCE'S    MIGHTY    WEAKNESS 

for  the  same  reason  —  arrant  nonsense,  because, 
being  of  a  neighborhood  clique,  they  were  certain 
to  spend  an  hour  or  two,  leaving  the  mere  ac- 
quaintances to  pop  in,  bow,  chat  a  minute,  and  pop 
out.  Two  young  girls  presided  over  a  punch-bowl 
in  the  parlor  extension.  They  were  dressed,  from 
feet  to  frizzes,  as  nearly  as  possible  like  their  fa- 
vorite actresses  in  a  play  then  raging  farther  up- 
town. Six  of  their  young  male  admirers  held  the 
fort  there,  being  on  such  evidently  intimate  terms 
with  the  bacchantes  as  to  chill  any  mere  callers 
and  send  them  away  shivering.  The  extension 
held  an  anteroom  which  attracted  a  few  club 
men  and  bachelors,  who  lurked  there,  discussing 
politics  and  anathematizing  ladies'  receptions. 

In  the  meantime,  the  misplaced  dispute  was 
under  full  headway  in  the  main  parlor,  between 
young  Mr.  Bruce  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hipstone,  of 
St.  Denis's  Church,  near  by.  The  doctor  was  a 
typical  Church -of -England  clergyman.  Of  an 
athletic  figure  that  had  been  neglected  and  was 
beginning  to  turn  corpulent,  he  declared  himself 
prosperous,  complacent,  and  comfortable  by  every 
inch  of  his  cloth  and  complexion — the  one  new, 
the  other  rosy.  His  admirable  manners  proved 
his  breeding.  His  brow  and  the  kindling  light  in 
his  eyes  declared  him  intellectual.  His  proud  pose 

142 


BRUCE'S    MIGHTY    WEAKNESS 

spoke  volumes  for  his  conscience.  He  was  such  a 
man  as  may  attract  women's  idolatry  and  men's 
respect  at  the  same  time. 

Mr.  Bruce  was  a  man  to  turn  and  look  at  a 
second  time  even  in  a  crowd.  He  had  a  broad, 
high  forehead  and  deep,  gray  eyes,  and  was  also 
what  we  call  intellectual-looking.  He  was  tall 
and  of  large  frame.  With  his  neat,  particular 
dress,  his  fine  features,  and  iron-gray  and  large 
mustachios,  he  would  have  been  very  handsome, 
except  that  he  appeared  to  be  "  burned  out."  His 
cheeks  were  sunken  and  pale  almost  to  yellow- 
ness. Deep  lines,  that  had  come  twenty  years  too 
soon,  rutted  his  face,  and  yet,  or,  rather,  because 
of  all  this,  he  was  interesting — distingue,  people 
said. 

"I  hold  that  drunkenness  is  the  worst  sin  in 
the  calendar,"  said  the  Kev.  Dr.  Hipstone.  Then 
he  gave  many  reasons  for  his  belief,  some  of  them 
at  length. 

"And  I  know  better,  begging  your  pardon," 
said  Mr.  Bruce.  "  I  know  that  gambling  is  worse. 
Gambling  is  a  subtle,  deadly  poison  that  paralyzes 
every  humane  and  gentle  prompting,"  etc.  He 
also  enlarged  upon  his  views. 

The  ladies  were  displeased  when  they  heard  the 
disputants  raise  their  voices.  They  glanced  at 

143 


BRUCE'S    MIGHTY    WEAKNESS 

one  another  and  fro\vned.  One  of  the  traditions 
which  women  have  perpetuated  to  their  dispar- 
agement is  that  seriousness  is  out  of  place  in  the 
company  of  ladies. 

"  Pardon  me  a  moment,"  Dr.  Hipstone  contin- 
ued ;  "  it  is  not  gaming  that  crowds  the  poor- 
houses.  It  is  not  gaming  that  packs  the  mad- 
houses and  wrecks  homes  and  breaks  up  families, 
and  creates  blear-eyed  murderers,  and  wretched, 
crying  wives,  and  forsaken  children.  All  that  is 
the  work  of  drink." 

"The  trouble  is  that  the  world  does  not  know 
about  gambling,"  Mr.  Bruce  replied.  He  was  now 
growing  very  earnest.  "  Men  like  you  deny  its 
fearful  consequences,  who  ought  to  proclaim  them. 
There  are  not  thousands  of  anti-gambling  broth- 
erhoods to  fill  the  air  with  lamentation  over  that 
vice,  as  the  temperance  folk  do  over  drink.  But 
there  should  be,  for,  having  seen  the  effects  of 
both  vices,  I  insist  that  there  should  be  even 
more  effort  to  stop  gambling  than  is  directed 
against  rum.  Though  drunkenness  is  bestial,  it 
is,  in  a  great  measure,  the  outgrowth  of  good-fel- 
lowship, sympathy,  and  kindliness  between  man 
and  man.  The  average  drunkard  is  notoriously 
4  the  good  fellow ' — that  is  to  say,  the  genial,  sym- 
pathetic, warm-hearted,  sociable  man.  Some 

144 


BRUCE'S    MIGHTY    WEAKNESS 

drunkards  fight  and  do  murder  and  beat  their 
wives,  but  the  majority  grow  mellow  with  drink, 
and,  though  they  ruin  themselves,  are  very  often 
well-meaning,  heart}T,  kindly  men." 

"  Upon  my   word,  sir,"  exclaimed  the  clergy-  ' 
man,  "  I  never  heard  anything  so  extraordinary  ! 
Surely,  the  virtues  and  charms  of  drunkards  were 
never  so  strongly  put  before." 

"  I  have  no  praise  for  them,"  said  Bruce,  "  but 
I  have  some  mercy.  I  argue  that  gambling 
poisons  the  soul  instead  of  the  body.  The  con- 
firmed gambler  is  the  meanest,  most  selfish,  most 
cold-blooded,  most  savage  creature — next  to  the 
Apache,  and  the  Apache  is  an  inveterate  gambler 
— that  I  have  seen  in  my  life.  The  craving  for 
play  chills  sensibility,  congeals  the  heart,  hardens 
sympathy,  kills  charity — oh,  the  havoc  it  plays  in 
the  human  breast  is  awful !  A  thorough  gambler 
will  sell  wife  or  daughter,  will  burn  his  home,  will 
murder — for  money  to  play  with  or  to  cover  his 
losses.  Drunkards  do,  in  a  moment  of  frenzy  or 
stupidity,  what  they  sorrow  for  when  sober,  but 
the  crimes  of  the  gambler  are  committed  soberly, 
in  cold  blood,  deliberately.  They  are  planned,  . 
sir,  after  meditation.  The  basis  of  the  drink 
habit  is  weakness,  but  gambling  is  based  upon 
cupidity.  Men  who  are  drunkards  are  fools, 
K  145 


BRUCE'S    MIGHTY    WEAKNESS 

but  gamblers  are  knaves,  and  —  I  beg  par- 
don." 

A  gentleman,  softly  gloved,  had  touched  young 
Bruce's  shoulder. 

"You  are  forgetting  yourself,  Mr.  Bruce,"  he 
whispered. 

Alas!  Bruce  had  quite  forgotten,  not  himself, 
but  the  others  in  the  drawing-room.  He  had 
been  carried  away  by  strong  feeling.  The  touch 
of  the  other  man's  hand  made  him  start  as  if  he 
had  been  shot.  He  turned  to  the  clergyman  and 
ended  the  argument  with  a  rude  sentence :  "  But 
what's  the  use  ?  You  do  not  know  anything  of 
these  subjects  and  I  assure  you  I  do." 

Then  he  bade  Mrs.  Whitehall  good-night,  bowed 
to  the  others,  and  left  the  room  to  get  his  coat  and 
hat  and  depart. 

He  went  straight  to  the  house  of  the  clergy- 
man with  whom  he  had  just  ceased  disputing, 
and  waited  there,  in  his  study.  Nervous  to  an 
extreme  degree,  when  Dr.  Hipstone  came  Bruce 
hastened  out  to  meet  him  half-way  along  the 
hall,  and,  seizing  his  hand,  led  him  into  the  study. 

"You  do  not  know  anything  about  gambling," 
said  Bruce.  "  That  is  as  it  should  be.  It  shows 
that  you  are  good  and  honest.  That  is  why  I 
have  come  here — not  to  argue  with  you,  but  to 

146 


BRUCE'S  MIGHTY  WEAKNESS 

tell  you  about  gambling — about  myself — to  get 
strength  through  confession." 

"You!"  the  clergyman  exclaimed;  "you  are 
not — but  sit  down,  my  friend,  and  tell  me  what 
has  excited  you  so." 

"  I  must  tell  you,"  said  the  electrician,  not  sit- 
ting down,  but  pacing  to  and  fro  like  a  caged 
beast.  "  To  relieve  my  mind,  to  tell  of  my  folly, 
is  my  last  chance.  If  it  does  not  curb  me  to  have 
made  known  the  horrible  truth — which  no  one 
suspects — nothing  will.  I  must  tell  you,  or  my 
sister,  or  my  employers.  If  I  tell  the  president 
of  my  company,  he  will  discharge  me  and  pre- 
cipitate my  ruin.  If  I  tell  my  sister,  it  will  break 
her  heart.  If  I  tell  you,  you  may  comfort  me ; 
at  any  rate,  the  shame  of  telling  you  everything 
will  nerve  me  to  control  myself.  I  am  a  gambler 
— a  confirmed  gambler — a  proof  of  all  that  I  told 
you  at  Mrs.  "Whitehall's  to-day." 

"Be  seated,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  the  clergy- 
man, "and  tell  me  as  much  or  as  little  as  you 
think  best." 

"  I  will  tell  you  all,"  said  Bruce. 

He  did  so,  to  the  clergyman's  surprise  and  no 
little  to  his  discomfiture,  for  he  heard  of  things  of 
which  he  had  never  dreamed,  a  tale  of  such  de- 
pravity as  he  had  imagined  was  confined  to  ex- 

147 


BRUCE'S    MIGHTY    WEAKNESS 

ceptional  victims  among  the  ignorant  and  disso- 
lute. He  heard  the  confession  of  a  man  who,  to 
feed  a  diseased  and  dreadful  appetite,  had  flung 
away  the  last  of  his  patrimony ;  of  one  who  had 
secretly  wasted  the  little  store  of  money  laid  up 
by  the  trusting  sister  whose  guardian  and  com- 
panion he  was.  He  heard  one,  whom  he  knew  to 
be  honored  among  men,  confess  to  having  entered 
his  own  house  at  midnight  to  rob  it  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  lead  to  the  belief  that  burglars — 
really  less  criminal  than  himself — had  broken  in 
there.  He  heard  this  whited- sepulchre — a  man 
whom  he  had  often  seen  in  his  church — admit 
that  he  had  gambled  away  even  the  little  sums 
his  sister  had  given  him  to  pay  her  petty  debts 
to  tradesmen.  And  now  this  worried,  desperate 
wretch,  who  had  surrendered  himself  like  a  leaf 
in  a  gale  of  passion,  was  at  his  rope's  end.  Any 
day,  any  moment,  the  smaller  thefts  might,  nay, 
surely  would,  become  known,  and  the  punishment 
of  exposure  would  begin. 

The  gambler  ended  his  story  in  a  convulsive  fit 
of  tears,  and  the  clergyman  soothed  him  as  a 
woman  might  have  done,  with  an  arm  across  his 
back  and  a  comforting  hand  patting  the  farther 
shoulder.  Presently  he  turned  to  the  source  of 
all  his  usefulness  and  inspiration — to  prayer  to 

148 


BRUCE'S    MIGHTY    WEAKNESS 

the  Almighty.  Upon  his  knees  he  pleaded  for 
strength  for  the  miserable  man  by  his  side. 

Young  Bruce  went  away  stronger,  more  hope- 
ful, and  with  a  firmer  resolution  against  further 
surrender  to  his  besetting  vice  than  he  had  ever 
before  mustered.  Moreover,  he  went  straight  to 
the  gambling-houses — not  to  fight  the  enemy,  but 
to  capitulate  and  beg  for  quarter.  "I  will  tell 
you  what  I  will  do,"  he  said,  as  he  parted  from 
Dr.  Hipstone, "  I  will  go  to  the  dens  where  I  have 
gambled,  I  will  tell  the  proprietors  what  a  pass  I 
have  reached,  and  I  will  appeal  to  them  not  to  ad- 
mit me  to  their  places  any  more." 

Broadway  was  ablaze  with  electric  light  and 
troops  of  pedestrians  were  hurrying  to  the  thea- 
tre, the  men  walking  rapidly  and  the  women  hang- 
ing upon  their  arms,  tripping  along,  excited  by  the 
anticipation  of  delight  at  the  playhouses,  by  the 
rustling  of  their  own  new  gowns,  and  by  the  joy  of 
being  out  for  the  night  with  the  men  they  owned 
or  hoped  to  own.  TVo  sorts  of  men  stood  aside 
and  looked  on  at  this  joyous  nightly  procession. 
Some  were  strangers,  just  from  dinner  in  the  hotels, 
and  undecided  what  to  do.  A  few  were  the  gam- 
blers and  the  "  cappers,"  as  the  decoys  are  called, 
for  the  "  hells  "  thereabout.  They  were  on  cer- 
tain busy  corners  that  are  familiar  to  all  city  men, 

149 


BRUCE'S    MIGHTY    WEAKNESS 

except  the  police,  as  their  regular  haunts.  These 
gamblers  and  their  stool-pigeons  are  distinguish- 
able from,  other  men  by  a  sort  of  loaf erly  and  loud 
effort  not  to  appear  loaferly  and  loud.  They  miss 
looking  like  gentlemen  by  an  angle  of  ten  degrees 
in  the  cant  of  their  hats,  by  an  extra  pound  of 
jewelry,  by  a  mere  diamond  or  two,  by  a  quarter's 
worth  of  dye  on  their  mustaches — by  such  little 
trifles,  which  are  tremendous.  Though  they  are 
wolves  of  a  higher  grade  than  the  coyotes  who 
pick  pockets,  they  are  wolves  nevertheless.  Their 
faces  are  not  wolfish,  because  they  are  not  so  often 
hunted  or  so  often  hungry  as  the  other  parasites. 
At  the  first  corner  that  held  a  group  of  them 
young  Bruce  turned  and  walked  until  he  reached 
the  open  door  of  a  dark  and  narrow  hallway.  It 
was  beside  a  dyer's  shop,  which  gave  the  whole 
building  a  proper  and  an  innocent  air.  In  the 
doorway  stood  a  man  who  would  have  stopped 
and  questioned  him  had  Bruce  been  a  stranger. 
As  it  was,  he  nodded  and  asked,  "H'are  yer?" 
and  stepped  aside  to  let  Bruce  pass.  At  the  top 
of  the  first  flight  of  stairs,  at  the  end  of  a  lighted 
hallway,  was  the  door  to  what  was  known  in  cer- 
tain circles  as  "  Curley  Snow's  Game."  The  sharp 
rattle  of  the  counters  or  "chips"  and  the  tremulous 
song  of  the  marble  rolling  on  the  roulette  wheel 

150 


BRUCE'S    MIGHTY    WEAKNESS 

penetrated  the  door  and  sounded  faintly  in  the 
hallway.  Faintly,  but  oh!  how  sweetly  to  the 
gambler's  ear.  For  what  the  whir  of  the  reel  is 
to  the  fisherman,  what  the  slat-tat  of  sheets  whip- 
ping in  the  wind  is  to  a  yachtsman,  what  the  chink 
of  double-eagles  is  to  a  miser,  or  the  patter  of  two 
thousand  hand-palms  is  to  an  actor — what  those 
sounds  are  to  those  persons  is  what  the  click-k-k-k 
of  the  chips  is  to  a  gambler. 

Bruce  knocked  on  the  door — once,  and  then 
three  times — and  instantly  a  shaft  of  light,  strong- 
er than  that  in  the  hallway,  shot  through  the  door. 
It  came  through  the  peep-hole  that  every  such 
door  has :  a  round  orifice  covered  at  the  back  by 
just  such  a  swinging  contrivance  as  one  sees  be- 
fore most  key-holes,  but  larger,  for  the  gambling- 
house  peep-hole  may  be  an  inch  in  diameter  or 
four  times  as  large.  A  darky's  white  eye  was  ap- 
plied to  this  hole,  and  then  the  door  was  swung 
open  to  admit  Mr.  Bruce.  If  he  had  stopped  to 
look  at  the  door  he  would  have  seen  that  it  was 
three  times  as  thick  as  an  ordinary  one,  made  of 
several  thicknesses  of  oak,  backed  by  thin  iron  and 
fitted  with  heavy  bolts,  and  with  a  strong  iron  bar 
in  addition  to  the  usual  lock.  The  door,  so  like 
the  barricade  of  a  sally-port  in  an  old-time  fortress, 
was  the  result  of  that  eccentricity  which  leads  our 

151 


BRUCE'S  MIGHTY  WEAKNESS 

police  to  burst  into  gambling-dens  after  they  have 
been  prodded  into  raiding  them — and  after  they 
have  given  the  gamblers  warning. 

But  Mr.  Bruce  had  seen  many  such  doors,  and 
did  not  look  at  this  one.  He  entered  the  gam- 
bling-saloon and  looked  about  for  the  proprietor. 
The  brilliant  saloon  embraced  all  that  floor  except 
the  hallway.  It  was  set  about  with  "lay-outs," 
each  with  chairs  around  it  for  a  few  men  with  suf- 
ficient money  to  be  able  to  sit  down  and  play 
those  ingenious  "systems"  which  all  gamblers 
who  can  afford  to  do  so  are  certain  to  adopt.  By 
their  sides  and  behind  them  stood  the  other  play- 
ers, and  behind  each  lay-out  were  the  dealers  and 
watchers,  or  the  dealers  and  croupiers,  according 
to  the  nature  of  the  game.  The  silver  wheels  and 
silver  card-frames,  the  ornamental  ivory  chips,  the 
green  cloths  with  copies  of  gaudy  playing-cards 
upon  them,  the  yielding  carpet,  the  bright  lights, 
the  pictures — all  were  parts  of  an  attractive  scene. 
The  half-quiet,  broken  by  the  click  and  whir  of 
the  implements  and  the  low,  monotonous  calls  of 
the  dealers,  was  typical  of  such  a  place.  The  well- 
dressed  players  seldom  spoke,  and  then  only  to 
mutter  a  word  or  two  to  their  neighbors.  Fixed 
interest  in  what  was  at  hand  marked  every  man's 
behavior.  Not  even  Love  is  so  uncertain  a  god  as 

152 


BRUCE'S    MIGHTY    WEAKNESS 

Luck,  and  Luck's  votaries  give  no  one  else  attention 
when  they  worship  him.  The  players  watch  the 
cards  or  the  wheel  and  their  money.  The  dealers 
watch  the  implements  and  the  bets.  The  "  watch- 
ers," seated  by  the  dealer,  watch  everybody  and 
everything. 

Mr.  Bruce  looked  about  him  for  Curley  Snow, 
the  man  who  ran  the  game.  "When  he  saw  him  he 
asked  if  he  might  speak  to  him  privately  for  a 
moment  in  the  "  office  " — a  side-room  which  once 
had  been  a  hall  bedroom.  Curley  Snow  was  a 
type  of  a  gambler  grown  rich  and  comfortable— 
of  an  already  considerable  number  of  such  gam- 
blers who  have  invested  money  in  race-horses  and 
race-tracks,  and  are  now  spoken  of  in  the  news- 
papers as  horsemen  instead  of  outlaws.  What, 
under  heaven,  has  dignified  so  many  scoundrels 
and  rehabilitated  so  many  outcasts  as  the  patient, 
honest,  innocent  horse?  The  greatest  burden  of 
the  noblest  beast  of  burden  is  the  sorry  lot  of 
wretches  who  live  upon  him  or  trade  upon  his 
good  name.  Curley  Snow  was  a  horseman  in  the 
newspapers  and  at  the  race-meetings,  and  this  had 
included  decent  men  among  his  acquaintances.  It 
had  given  him  a  sneaking  self-respect.  Tall  and 
corpulent,  ruddy,  well-dressed,  and  easy  in  man- 
ner, he  would  pass  for  an  elderly  banker  but  for  a 

153 


BRUCE'S    MIGHTY    WEAKNESS 

mysterious,  indefinable  trace  of  a  protracted  hard 
life  in  his  face — a  trace  that  was  strengthened  by 
two  or  three  scars.  He  could  play  the  gentleman 
for  a  while  at  a  time,  but  frequent  lapses  into 
slang,  vulgarity,  and  bad  grammar  spoiled  each 
effort.  Whenever  he  was  crossed,  the  blackguard 
broke  through  all  his  veneer.  And  at  all  times  he 
was  as  superstitious  as  a  negro — as  all  gamblers  are. 
"Come  in,"  said  he  to  Bruce.  "You  and  I 
won't  quarrel.  You  can't  quarrel  with  me.  Your 
name  is  Bruce — tut,  tut,  you're — ah — in  a  gentle- 
man's house  and  nothing  reaches  beyond  the  walls. 
You're — ah — the  nephew  of  Chief-Justice  Bruce — 
ah.  I  have  the  honor  of  your — ah — uncle's  ac- 
quaintance. Went  over  on  the — ah — Paris  with 
him  a  couple  of  years  since.  Had  him  to  my — ah 
— house  in  the  city,  to  see  my  paintings.  I  know 
a  number  of  judges.  There's — ah — Judge  Enright, 
I  met  on  the  Kiviera  larst  yeah.  Found  he  was 
fond  of  dining,  and  I  took  him  to — ah — my  club- 
house at  the  track.  I  gave  him  terrapin  at — ah — 
eight  dollars  apiece,  and  canvas  -  back  duck  with 
Burgundy  that  was  wunst  Napoleon  Third's,  don't 
you  know.  *  Eat  hearty,'  I  says,  *  you  won't  git  as 
good  at  home,'  and  he  laughed.  Do  you — ah — like 
my  pictures  heah?  Well,  they  cost  a  big  stake,  but 
they  ain't  a  marker  to  them  up  to  my  house  in 

154 


BRUCE'S    MIGHTY    WEAKNESS 

Fifty-seventh  Street — no,  by ,  not  a  marker. 

I've  an  undoubted  —  ah — Titian,  not  signed — a 
Kubens,  sir,  that  the  best  experts  say  he  painted, 
and — ah — but,  my  dear  fellow,  tell  me  what  I  kin 
do  for  you." 

Bruce  told  him,  frankly  and  fully,  except  that 
he  tempered  the  truth  by  saying  that  he  feared 
he  might  commit  crime,  instead  of  that  he  had 
done  so. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Curley  Snow ;  "  I'll  give  the 
orders,  if  you  say  so.  I  keep  a  place  for  gentle- 
men, by (the  reader  will  confer  an  obligation 

if  he  will  imagine  most  of  the  oaths  that  follow), 

"  and  I  take  no  money  that  don't  come,  by , 

easy,  and  that  ain't,  by ,  clean.  If  you'll  allow 

me,  you're  too  high-strung  to  play,  and  you  don't 
hold  your  head  like  a  sport,  or  you  wouldn't  git 
into  no  such  hole.  But  that's  on  the  side.  You 
come  to  a  gentleman,  sir,  when  you — ah — come  to 
me.  I've  got  nice  folks,  sir,  and  I  know  what 
it  'd  be  to  hurt  their  pride.  I've  got  a  good 

mother,  by ,  and  as  high-toned  a  sister  as  ever 

stretched  a  French  gaiter ;  two  women  that  would 
think  they  was  disgraced  if  they  knew  who  Cur- 
ley  Snow  was.  D n  me  if  the  old  lady  ain't 

even  a  little  skittish  about  my  racing  horses,  the 
finest  sport  a  gentleman  can  engage  in,  as  I've  told 

155 


BRUCE'S    MIGHTY    WEAKNESS 

her.  But  them  two  •women  live  quiet  in  the  coun- 
try, and  d d  if  I  believe  either  one  knows  a 

deck  of  cards  by  sight.     Well,  Bruce,  now  let's 

have  a  drink  for  good  luck.    Won't  ?    Well,  d d 

if  I  don't  take  one  on  myself ! 

"Are  you — ah — superstitious?"  he  inquired  as 
he  drained  his  glass.  "  A  little  ?  Well,  I'm  super- 
stitious a  d d  sight.  Do  you  know  why  I  told 

you  you  couldn't  quarrel  with  me,  soon's  you  come 
in  ?  It  was  because  of  a  stock  dream  that  comes 
to  me  half  a  dozen  times  a  year.  It's  a  double 
zero  on  me,  every  time.  I  dreamed  larst  night, 
you  know,  that  a  gentleman — ah — touched  me,  un- 
derstand, for  some  money,  and  d d  if  I  had  a 

cent  about  me  except  my  lucky  piece.  See !  here 
it  is — a  Mexican  dollar.  I  took  this  and  the  mate 
to  it  off  of  a  Greaser's  dead  body  in  New  Mexico 
in  '83,  when  I  was  dead-strapped ;  hadn't  a  cent 
to  keep  me  out  of  Hades,  and  nothing  to  eat  but 
my  dirk-knife.  (An  angel  couldn't  get  along  down 
there  without  a  dirk,  you  know.)  I  hunted  up  a 
game,  and  put  down  one  of  them  dollars  and  lost 
it.  Then  I  let  go  the  other,  and  I  won  a  hatful. 
From  that  day  to  this  I  ain't  had  a  serious  streak 
of  bad  luck,  and  I've  kept  that  dead  Greaser's  last 
dollar  in  my  pocket.  You  couldn't  get  it  from  me 
for  Ehret's  brewery.  I'd  be  better  off  if  I  lost  my 

156 


BRUCE'S    MIGHTY    WEAKNESS 

skin  than  if  I  lost  that.  "Well,  when  that  dream 
is  dealt  to  me,  I  always  think  I  only  have  that 
dollar  (and  a  little  charm  I  wear  around  my  neck, 
'gin  sickness),  and  I  can  tell  you  I  know  what  it 
means.  It  means  I  mustn't  lose  my  temper  next 
day,  and  I  daresn't  make  a  trade  or  a  bargain,  and 
if  I  speak  to  a  red-headed  man  the  gout  will  come 
on  me  before  night.  That's  as  true  as  gospel. 
Must  you — ah — go  ?  Well,  arf ter  a  bit  you'll  get 
out  of  your — ah — difficulties  all  right.  Delighted 
to  be  of  service,  I'm  suah.  Well — ah — so  long, 
Mr.  Bruce ;  so  long." 

At  the  next  door  to  which  Bruce  went  with 
his  peculiar  request  the  proprietor  was  an  equally 
good  representative  of  the  lower  stratum  of  the  fra- 
ternity—of the  wolves  that  are  hungry.  Curtly 
and  frankly  he  told  the  young  man  that  his  re- 
quest "  wasn't  business,"  and  could  not  be  enter- 
tained for  an  instant.  "  I'm  here  to  get  the  boodle 
of  just  such  babies  as  you,"  said  he,  "and  you  can 
bet  I  don't  care  how  you  come  by  it.  You  can 
pinch  it  or  forge  for  it  or  hock  every  dollar's  worth 
you  own,  and,  so  long  as  it  is  good  stuff,  fetch  it 
around.  I'll  take  it  all  if  the  cards  run  my  way." 

Heart-sick,  Bruce  went  to  the  third  den — the 
last  he  had  the  courage  to  visit.  This  time  his 
request  was  promptly  granted,  but  for  a  curious 

157 


BRUCE'S  MIGHTY  WEAKNESS 

reason.  The  place  was  not  prospering,  and  the 
beetle-headed,  superstitious  proprietor  was  at  his 
wits'  end  where  to  lay  the  blame.  He  was  too 
glad  to  credit  Bruce  with  some  of  it. 

"  You  needn't  ask  twicet,"  said  he.  "  I've  been 
keepin'  cases  on  you  for  some  time,  and  I  think 
you  are  the  worst  hoodoo  that  ever  queered  a 
game.  That's  what  I'm  a-sayin'.  I've  seen  a 
good  many  hoodoos — red-headed,  cock-eyed,  and 
crippled — but  none  of  them  comes  up  to  you. 
You'd  queer  a  slot-machine.  As  long  as  you're 
in  a  place  every  man  wins  except  yourself.  Last 
time  you  was  here — if  Eeggie  Monteagle  didn't 
win  $10,000,  and  went  and  blew  it  in  at  Curley 
Snow's.  Yes,  Monteagle,  that's  been  an  angel  for 
every  game  in  town  till  he'd  run  through  the  half- 
million  his  father  left  him.  Bet  your  life,  I'll  give 
you  the  double  cross  at  the  door.  Good-night, 
sir,  you'd  ruin  the  Bank  of  England  if  you.  only 
stepped  in  to  see  the  building — and  lose  your  pile 
at  the  same  time." 

That  was  on  a  Friday  night.  On  Saturday  Mr. 
Bruce  put  his  week's  salary  into  his  sister's  hands, 
the  better  to  enable  him  to  resist  temptation.  On 
Monday  night  temptation  came,  like  a  hot  wave  of 
fever  or  as  a  squall  strikes  a  summer  sea.  Bruce 
started  at  a  brisk  walk  for  the  house  of  a  friend, 

158 


BRUCE'S    MIGHTY    WEAKNESS 

to  spend  the  evening,  but  the  poisonous  craving 
for  play  had  seized  him.  It  was  in  his  blood.  It 
made  him  tremble  like  a  man  stricken  with  an 
ague.  His  pace  slackened,  then  he  hesitated  and 
stood  still ;  then  he  turned  right-about  and  made 
for  Broadway  and  some  gambling -hell — any  one 
that  would  admit  him.  Little  he  cared  where,  so 
long  as  he  could  gamble.  But  he  was  out  of 
money.  He  had  only  a  few  nickels  in  his  pocket 
— not  the  price  of  one  half-dollar  chip.  He  tried 
to  think  of  a  way  to  get  money.  The  nearest 
pawn-shop  would  be  closed  before  he  could  reach 
it,  and,  if  not,  he  had  no  superfluity  about  him  ex- 
cept his  umbrella.  "What  was  he  to  do  ?  How 
often  he  had  been  in  that  quandary  of  late !  So 
often  that  now  there  was  no  friend  or  shopkeeper 
of  whom  he  could  borrow. 

He  came  to  Fifth  Avenue  and  to  a  great  and 
famous  club-house  which  rose  like  a  mountain  of 
stone  at  one  corner.  A  wickeder,  more  desperate 
prompting  than  that  which  already  mastered  him 
now  entered  his  mind.  Again  he  hesitated.  It 
was  useless.  He  must  have  money  with  which  to 
satisfy  the  mad  desire  to  play.  In  his  hand  he 
carried  an  umbrella  with  a  shining  metal  handle. 
He  took  out  his  penknife  and  cut  deep  into  the 
wood  below  this  handle  and  broke  it  off  and  flung 
159 


BRUCE'S  MIGHTY  WEAKNESS 

away  the  umbrella.  Pocketing  the  handle,  he 
turned  down  the  dark  side-street  until  he  was  be- 
yond the  light  of  the  avenue's  lamps.  Then  he 
waited  on  a  curb-stone.  Several  men  came  out  of 
the  club-house,  but  turned  towards  the  avenue.  At 
last  one  took  the  other  direction,  towards  Bruce. 
At  the  instant  the  man  was  beside  him,  Bruce, 
trembling  and  all  but  losing  his  nerve  for  the 
deed,  turned  upon  him  and  pointed  the  gleaming 
umbrella  handle  at  his  face.  He  threatened  the 
man  in  the  only  words  of  which  he  could  think — 
the  old  formula  of  Blackheath,  "  Your  money  or 
your  life !"  The  astonished  wayfarer  stopped  and 
opened  his  mouth  as  if  to  speak. 

"Utter  a  word  and  I'll  kill  you.  I'm  desper- 
ate," said  Bruce. 

The  man  sprang  at  Bruce  and,  with  the  grasp 
of  a  vise,  gripped  the  hand  that  held  the  shining 
weapon. 

"Bruce," said  he,  "  is  it  you,  or  am  I  mistaken?" 

Bruce  staggered  like  a  bullock  that  receives  the 
blow  of  an  axe. 

"My  God!  Dr.  Hipstone,  is  it  you?"  he  ex- 
claimed. "You!  how— 

"How  providential!"  said  the  clergyman,  re- 
leasing him.  "  But  how  shameful !  how  horrible ! 
Put  up  your  pistol  and  come  with  me." 

160 


BRUCE'S    MIGHTY    WEAKNESS 

"  If  it  were  a  pistol  I  would  use  it — I  would  kill 
myself  with  it — but  it  is  only  a  piece  of  metal," 
said  the  poor  wretch. 

"  Kill  yourself !"  the  clergyman  exclaimed. 
"  What  are  you  ?  Are  you  a  savage,  or  a  mad- 
man? Kill  yourself?  With  all  your  wickedness 
and  folly  unpardoned  ?  End  your  life  at  this  time 
— such  a  life  as  you  are  leading?  Say,  rather, 
that  you  pray  God  that  you  may  live  out  a  long 
lifetime  in  which  to  work  unceasingly  to  atone 
for  your  crimes.  You  shameful,  wicked  fool ! 
You  coward !  You  miserable  coward  !" 

"Oh,  sir,  you  cannot  say  anything  that  I  do 
not  deserve,"  said  Bruce. 

"  Forgive  me,  I  beg  of  you,"  the  clergyman  re- 
plied ;  "  I  did  not  mean  to  speak  like  that.  I  also 
am  weak.  I  lost  my  self-control." 

"  You  need  not  hold  me,"  said  Bruce.  "  I  shall 
not  run.  I  will  walk  with  you  to  the  station- 
house." 

"  The  station-house  ?"  said  the  doctor,  releasing 
his  arm ;  "  what  have  I  to  do  with  the  station- 
house  ?  It  is  to  my  home  I  ask  you  to  go,  there 
to  see  you  down  on  your  knees,  seeking  that  aid 
which  alone  can  save  a  man  like  you.  There  are 
men  who  seem  to  get  along  without  God,  but  there 
are  others  who  cannot,  and  you  are  one.  Come 

L  161 


BRUCE'S    MIGHTY    WEAKNESS 

with  me  and  commit  yourself  to  Him  for  strength 
and  guidance.  Come  and  hear  me  thank  Him  that 
my  visit  to  a  parishioner  in  that  club-house  led  to 
your  meeting  me  instead  of  some  man  who  would 
have  sent  you  into  the  company  of  felons,  if  not 
of  sinners  in  endless  torment." 

On  the  following  Sunday  many  sermons  were 
preached  in  town,  but  only  one  that  electrified  its 
hearers.  That  sermon  swept  them  along  with  the 
orator  and  held  them  bound,  as  if  the  pulpit  were 
a  dynamo  that  burdened  the  air  with  magnetism. 
That  was  because  the  preacher  talked  from  his 
heart  instead  of  his  head,  and  told  something  he 
had  learned  from  life  instead  of  from  books.  It 
was  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hipstone  who  did  this,  while 
Bruce  sat  in  a  pew  before  him,  struggling  to  hide 
his  emotion. 

The  good  rector  of  St.  Denis's  assured  his  hear- 
ers, and  convinced  them,  that  no  vice  was  so  black 
and  deadly  as  gambling. 


THE   END 


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